


How Do I Dare To Care?

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: I've never been a fan of this ship, but I got hooked on the idea what it would take to render Frank a better person.
Relationships: Frank Burns/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 36
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Seven years since the war had ended, and Hawkeye was still fighting boredom, this time in a garden of a suburban house in Indianapolis. He would’ve never thought about visiting the city, but his childhood friend Linda had moved here because of work, and later on met Donny, a stock-market agent of dubious morality. Hawkeye didn’t like the man as soon as he encountered him before the wedding, however, Linda kept persuading him that Donny was a real treasure. He doubted it, but he was a guest, and truth be told, he wouldn’t have come hadn’t he been quite tired of his peaceful, yet monotonous life in Crabapple Cove. At least, he had an excuse to get on a plane and spend some time somewhere else, being totally on his own, and maybe trying to figure out whether this way of life was what he wanted.

Sitting in a desolate spot of an otherwise crowded garden, sipping on a delicious Martini, he was blindly observing people around when his gaze stopped at Linda. She noticed and smiled at him, which Hawkeye reciprocated, still wondering why she had invited him. Probably out of pity, he thought, smirking unhappily as all the Crabapple Cove and people connected with it knew he had been working at hospital in Portland, however, everybody was significantly more interested in his relationship failures. Since he had returned from Korea, he had been engaged twice, had three other girlfriends, yet none of the relationships was meant to be successful. He was called childish, irresponsible, and so frightened of commitments he wasn’t able to settle down.

It was true he supposed because it had always been him who ruined the relationships, regretting it then for a while before he moved on, found another girl, and so on. He was single currently, sort of tired, and reluctant to fall into a relationship any time soon. He desired solitude with his own thoughts, which somebody would probably call pathetic, yet Hawkeye wouldn’t have cared much. After all, nobody but Linda knew him here, so he could do whatever he wanted, including being alone in the crowd.

He took some time off, booked a moderately expensive room in a hotel, and once he was simply walking down the streets of a foreign city, he felt better. Under the fleeting impression of freedom, he forgot the burdens he had to carry, leaving all nosy people back in Maine. He felt sorry for his dad though. He wanted the best for his son, however, neither him nor Hawkeye knew what it should be.

And therefore, Hawkeye attended the wedding, had a few empty conversations with the guests, and once he overheard Donny discussing his seller’s tactics to an eager group of listeners, he opted for a drink. Sitting in the corner of the garden, he spotted Linda approaching him in her snow white dress. They had talked before the wedding, of course, but right now, she finally had time for a proper conversation.

“You look like shit, Hawk,” she said without any scruples, going right to the point. She sat next to him on the bench, glaring disapprovingly at her long lost childhood friend. “The war has been over for an eternity and you still look like you haven’t slept for weeks.”

“You’re not far from truth,” he admitted, ignoring the bluntness as he knew she meant well. “I don’t sleep well, but it’s my back that’s killing me,” he tried to put the blame somewhere else than it genuinely was.

“Yes, definitely. Like I should believe,” she shook her head, but then her eyes gentled. “I’ve heard you’re not doing good. Personally I mean, so I wanted to see you. We’ve drifted apart by no means, but I still care about you, you moron.”

He chuckled. She hadn’t changed much as she had always been straightforward, yet her good heart preventing her from being cruel. She kind of reminded him of Margaret when she was sitting next to him, scolding him, but trying to help at once.

“So you see me…” he shrugged. “Not much to look at, honestly.”

“What appears to be the problem? Besides inability to settle, of course,” she asked, eyeing him carefully. “I just wished to provide you with an excuse to leave Crabapple Cove and think of something else, but for old times’ sake, I’d like to help you some more.”

“You’re not the only one, but the issue is, I have no idea what I want,” Hawkeye voiced what kept bothering him. “The last straw was when my dad warned me I’m becoming less and less funny, and that’s what really hit me,” he added, grinning at Linda whom smirked.

“You’ve never been funny, just irritating,” she spat good-naturedly, but then again, she eyed him for a few seconds before saying: “I’ve heard it’s a common thing for the war returnees, so… How are you former comrades holding up?”

“A bit better, but not by much,” Hawkeye sighed as it really pained him that basically all of his friends were suffering from the war consequence as well. Some were worse than him, yet he didn’t want to discuss them with Linda. He liked her, but as she said, they had drifted apart and this help was just a one-timer, in other words, the only way she was willing to help him for old times’ sake. And bearing in mind he wasn’t going to see her again made him sincere, unafraid about unearthing some of his fears. “We keep in touch, but… somehow it seems we are not keen on seeing each other again. It’s… it’s… we just dread it would bring the vivid memories back.”

“I understand…” she said, and Hawkeye doubted it, though he remained silent. It saved time and energy. “It won’t be a long-term solution, but I actually think I know how to help you at least to focus on something different. Something important, but neglected by most.”

“I’ve already tried working until I’m about to pass out,” Hawkeye shook his head, finishing his Martini. “But my friend psychiatrist went nuts when learning about it. I’m not going to enrage Sidney anymore,” he admitted, still feeling bad for making Sidney that furious. It was something he wished he had never seen and never caused to begin with.

“Wait, you have a friend psychiatrist and he cannot help you?” Linda was rather sceptical about that.

“He has patients with serious problem,” he looked at her firmly. “I won’t trouble him with my stupid issues… I’ll figure it out someday,” sounded Hawkeye quite adamant, but didn’t trust his words much. They felt hollow as if they didn’t mean anything…

“And what are you friends for then? You should lean on him either because he is a psychiatrist or a friend, it doesn’t matter, Hawk. Hell, we may be quite distant these days, but still I wanted to help, so now listen, silly,” passionately, she pointed a finger at his chest. “You’re a grown man, so I won’t press you into calling your friend, but… but! I strongly advise you to focus on something else and something beneficial for the others.”

As Hawkeye was staring at her in question, she sighed, frustrated by his overall existence:

“I mean a soup kitchen. Or a meal centre as they are called these days. There are a few in Indianapolis, so try one, ask whether you can be of any help, and spend some time with those people. It had contributed to my perception of life in the past, so I hope it actually might help you as well. At least for a while,” she kept glaring at him, expecting a nod, which she received, though a hesitant one.

He didn’t see how this could help, but under Linda’s unyielding gaze, he decided to consent to her idea.

“I have nothing else to do in here anyway,” he shrugged. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, satisfied he listened to her. “Still, I think you should persuade one of your friends to meet somewhere they live… You could use a company of somebody who knows not only you, but also what war brings about.”

Her words made sense, but Hawkeye didn’t really want to think of it, and once they plunged into silence, he felt it was time to leave. He thanked for the invitation, said goodbye, and literally had to force himself to shake hands with Donny. He hated his guts despite talking to him just for a couple of minutes, yet he made his opinion on him rather quickly – he was dumb, self-centred, and uptight. He wasn’t even handsome, he mused when leaving the house behind and heading to the hotel.

Walking quickly, his thoughts were running like crazy as well, returning to what Linda said to him, what he thought of himself and the world, however, he ended up being quite angry with himself for not interfering with Donny. Linda deserved better and the guy’s morale was atrocious. She must’ve have married him for money, he concluded the inner discussion despite he hated the fact that Linda would’ve done anything like that.

The only person he knew was married because of money was Frank Burns, however, something was telling him this guy was far worse than Frank. Hawkeye saw Donny as dumb, but he couldn’t have been as he was so successful in making money. It was just all strange, he shook his head when walking down the streets, acknowledging that the strangest thing was that he hadn’t remembered Frank since his return to the states and the memory of him got rekindled exactly in Indiana.

 _Yeah, I remember the state where ferret face resides_ , Hawkeye smirked without any signs of happiness, feeling all sore due to his back pain, all sombre due to Linda’s choice, and all annoyed due to his unchanging state of mind.

Distressed, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, so suddenly, he had no idea where he happened to be. Looking around, he tried to decipher the names and numbers of streets when his eyes laid upon a banner saying:

Grace & Chase

a soup kitchen

**one hot meal per day for free**

Volunteers welcome!

Hawkeye rolled the eyes and returned to trying to decipher where he should go, but an itch under his skin appeared together with a low voice, telling him to listen to Linda.

 _It cannot hurt to help,_ it said and Hawkeye knew it was true, but he didn’t believe that helping others might really help him. Being a doctor meant curing people day by day as it was his job, so in what manner this would be different, he wondered, but as the evening was nearing, the wind getting colder, and shabby looking people entering the kitchen in groups, his mind was swayed.

After all, he had literally nothing else to do, and therefore, Hawkeye crossed the street, checked on the information on the door, and went to the back of the kitchen where he knocked on another door, proceeding in quite a haste as he feared he might change his mind. He was seriously fed up with his inability to decide for something or someone, to settle for one thing or person, so it suddenly felt like a necessity to do this and to help those who might need him tonight.

“Hi, I’m Chase, what can I do for you?” a blond man opened the door, his cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming with life, full lips grazed with a bright smile. He was wearing an apron and his hands were red and wet from the work.

“Hi, I’m… I’m Hawkeye and I thought that you may need some extra help tonight?” he suggested, feeling so nervous he even stuttered, but Chase’s smile was so warm that Hawkeye quickly regain some of his self-esteem.

“We always do,” answered Chase, stepping aside to let Hawkeye inside. “Come on in, I’ll show you what you can do,” and as he shut the door behind Hawkeye, he gestured towards two half-full sinks. From another room, Hawkeye could hear a distant clutter and voices of the boarders.

“Unfortunately, you can be only a dishwasher right now. Without any reward, of course. I hope you understand this,” Chase informed him, eyeing Hawkeye cautiously, but he relaxed once Hawkeye assured him he wasn’t here to get paid or fed.

“Great. Hang your coat and let’s get to work,” he nodded, went to the sink and began washing the plates. Hawkeye joined him in the next minute, also wearing an apron he borrowed, and being quite content about the company and the job as well. As he was a shy person at heart, he settled for this small room with just two sinks and three long table to put them then on. While he was getting used to the hot water and the smell lingering in the air, coming from the adjacent kitchen, he launched a conversation with Chase.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.

“If you mean the washing, for about half an hour,” Chase grinned and Hawkeye’s lips formed a smile as well, yet didn’t reach his eyes. “but seriously, me and my wife, we established the kitchen three years ago. We wanted to help people, and because our mutual friend is wealthy enough to fund us, we agreed on opening a soup kitchen. You aren’t local, are you?”

“No, I’m from Maine,” Hawkeye said, getting into a nice rhythm with the plates. He only pulled up the sleeves of his sweater, and got really into it, quite enjoying the warmth of the room emphasized by the hot water he was washing plates with. “It’s just two of you or…?”

Chase shook his head.

“You know, we cannot afford any staff… We only offer people working in here two meals per day, which makes us feeding a cook and two servers a day. Some of them keep returning to work regularly, and some show up just once or twice, and then vanish,” Chase explained, “One hot meal per day isn’t much, but at least something. At first, we had issues with finding reliable helpers, but currently, I cannot complain. Harry is hard-working and Frank, too. He works here five days a week. He never smiles and always seems to be tired as if he is haunted by his past, but… aren’t we all?” he sighed, putting the last plate aside. “Still, I think he cannot smile as he appears to have no lips,” he muttered under his breath, and as he realized Hawkeye was staring at him, frozen in the place, he asked curiously: “Something’s wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Hawkeye answered, blinking as if trying to send the unsettling thoughts away. It was just a mere coincidence, he tried to appease his racing heart and rash thoughts. Frank was rich, so why would he work for food? It couldn’t be him.

But he was in Indiana and… What was the name of Frank’s hometown? Fort… Fort Way? Wayne? Something like that, yet Hawkeye had no idea whether it was any close to Indianapolis to make his presence here more… possible?

“Hi,” an unknown voice eased him back into reality, and Hawkeye just greeted a guy who brought more plates. “You’re new here, aren’t you? Just brace yourself, Frank’s going to be here any minute with more of these,” he said, setting a pile of plates next to Hawkeye’s sink, and then he headed back to where he came from.

A cold wave washed over Hawkeye’s body. He swallowed hard as a series of flashbacks inundated his mind, reminding him who Frank Burns was, reminding him how they treated each other in Korea, and Hawkeye’s system simply couldn’t decide whether he would want to see Frank supposing he really was here. Confused, he recognized the little spark of joy in his heart that surprised him, but mostly he succumbed to worry and combination of disgust and anger he felt towards the man when they were in Korea.

“We don’t have enough plates for everybody, so we should hurry up with those bad boys,” Chase encouraged him, and because everything was better than musing on Frank Burns, he got to washing. The plates were cluttering, the water splashing, his deft fingers quickly getting the work done, and despite the fact Chase continued the story of their kitchen, Hawkeye couldn’t focus as the fear mixed with excitement of possible meeting with Frank was clouding his mind. Frank was a terrible human being, yet Hawkeye hadn’t wished him anything bad to happen, so…

The incessant clutter of plates became insufferable at one point, and Hawkeye by the corner of his eye realized that another pile of plates was dropped next to him, so he as if automatically looked up to the person who brought them, intending to thank them, grateful the clutter had stopped, and return to work. However, once he glanced at the man, he couldn’t believe his eyes even though the signs of his presence had grown blatant.

“Pierce,” the man said without a real interest, without any emotions to be precise, and then he turned his back on him, leaving. Only when he was at the door, he halted abruptly, facing Hawkeye again, staring at him in shock.

“Hi, Frank,” Hawkeye said as it was the only thing he was capable of expect gazing at his former bunkmate, looking worn out and slender as hell. As Hawkeye was struggling with a bunch of various emotions, beside surprise, he saw only one in Frank’s eyes – anger. He clenched his jaw, gave Hawkeye one more stone-cold look, and stormed out of the kitchen.

“You know each other?” was Chase a bit bemused by the situation, not speaking of the sudden tension stretching in the air.

“Yeah… once we knew each other quite well,” said Hawkeye, and it took some time before he stopped gawking at the spot Frank was standing on, and returned to his task. He felt under the weather, his stomach tied up in knots.

This wasn’t good… this wasn’t good at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your support so far :)

Unable to think of anything else, the rest of the evening went by in a haze. Hawkeye kept washing the dishes, yet his mind was preoccupied with Frank’s rather unsettling presence in the soup kitchen. He just couldn’t process what must have happened that Frank ended up here despite having a set-up practise, two houses and a car. Something must have gone horribly wrong, and Hawkeye’s mind was supplying him with a myriad of far-fetched scenarios. The manual job was perfect for stimulating the brain, but Hawkeye was far more interested in the truth than the images of his fantasy. Still, he doubted there was a chance Frank would confide to him.

However, he thought it was worth of a try. He had nothing to lose after all, so once the dishes were finished and Chase together with his wife thanked him for his help, assuring him he can return anytime it suits him, Hawkeye put on his jacket and headed for the door. He meant to wait outside for Frank, hoping he wouldn’t use the front entrance, and fortunately for him, Frank was also about to leave at the same time, bumping into Hawkeye in the doorframe.

“Watch your steps, Pierce,” he barked at him, his voice dripping with venom as he thronged outside, and without looking back, he went away.

“Hey, Frank, wait!”

Hawkeye wasn’t thinking much of what he was going to say, but he knew he had to stop Frank and make him talk. He was so curious, and worried as hell, he just wasn’t willing to let Frank of the hook. With his heart thumping, he watched Frank halting and turning to him as his watery blue eyes fixed upon his face.

“What?” he asked when Hawkeye only managed to stare at him, finally having some time to observe his former bunkmate closely, being hit by the shabbiness of Frank’s clothes, dirty and old, by the deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, by the overall tiredness emanating from each feature of Frank’s face.

Hadn’t he had the hatred in his eyes, Hawkeye wouldn’t have guessed it was the same man he had met in Korea.

“I’m cold, Pierce, so make a joke, laugh, and bugger off,” he spat, being bitter and angry, yet when Hawkeye kept only staring at him, the hatred ebbed away. As if it was just a reflex, a defence mechanism that it appeared in the first place, Hawkeye mused, still he wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing.

“I’m sorry, Frank, I didn’t mean to stall, but… what…” he stuttered, gesturing wildly with his hand toward Frank, being stunned by the way Frank Burns was shivering in front of him, how fragile he looked in that worn-out clothes, how listless he seemed to be suddenly, the energy being drained just by the first two utterances. Now, there was just an indifferent shell of a man who didn’t care about anything.

“What happened? That’s none of your business, Pierce,” Frank answered quietly.

“Frank… You know I won’t laugh,” Hawkeye stepped closer, arms open to stress he meant no harm. “When somebody is down I… don’t laugh. Usually,” he swallowed, remembering the time he and BJ weren’t really nice to him after Margaret left him. Margaret… “I tried to help when Margaret dumped you, remember?”

Anger flickered within Frank’s eyes for a brief second, otherwise he didn’t budge.

“That’s been a long time ago, Pierce. Leave me alone,” he said, traces of sadness tainting his tone that continued to be rather sharp. All tired and low, but still kicking in fear from being ridiculed…

Turning his back on Hawkeye again, he abandoned him there in the unknown alley of the unknown city. After a couple of minutes, Hawkeye was cold as well, unable to shake off the thoughts of Frank, where he was going to spend the night, and… for how long had he been living like that?

It shook him up to the core of his bones. Upon getting to the hotel room, he ordered a meal, but didn’t eat much of it.

Who would’ve thought that of all people in the world, Frank Burns, a colonel, a doctor who married for money, would end up in a soup kitchen?

Was he homeless or just too poor to afford food? And does it matter?

Although Hawkeye knew who Frank Burns was like and how he treated other people, he couldn’t bear leaving Frank to a life like this. Abruptly, an idea of helping Frank in any possible way he could appeared, sinking claws into his heart that swelled with sympathy. He felt sort of flabbergasted by the turn of events as an unexpected invitation to a wedding consequently lead to a reunion with his former colleague. Certainly it wasn’t the one Linda was suggesting, or Hawkeye would’ve thought of when discussing the topic, but in the end, it played out as he would’ve followed Linda’s advice to the letter.

Mulling over the paradoxes the world keeps providing people with, he fell asleep, but wasn’t much rested in the late morning. Grumpily, he answered the phone patched through to his room, and because Donny was the last person he wished to speak at that time, he was rather straightforward with him. He couldn’t help himself as just the voice of the man was grinding his gears, and consequently he had to face a furious call from Linda. Feeling bad, he let her call him numerous unpleasant names, but he guessed he deserved them as she was the one who invited him.

“I’m a broken, grumpy old man, Lin,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

There was a silence on the other end, followed by a tired sigh.

“I know, Hawk, just… never mind.” After another pause, she added: “Let’s leave it here, okay? We might have dinner before you go, but-“

“Sure, I understand,” Hawkeye interrupted her as he was able to estimate what was going on in her mind. She just didn’t want him to attend any other activities tied to their wedding. “I’ll be here till Thursday.”

“Very well then, goodbye,” she said and both hanged up the phone.

Upon releasing the stuck up emotions and being cajoled into thinking rationally once again, he actually felt better. Still, there wasn’t anything he desired to do beside returning to the soup kitchen to help and to see Frank again. And calling his dad, which he did right away, yet didn’t learn much as the only mildly interesting thing was that their nurse decided to go roller-skating. Hawkeye knew she had always wanted to try, so he was quite happy for her to find courage and join her friends who were going regularly.

Once he was alone again only with his own mind, occupied solely by Frank Burns, he just scratched his scalp and relented to what his soul, and insistent curiosity, wanted. Hoping he could talk Frank into a confession by showing him he really meant to help him, he shaved, had some breakfast, dressed up, and he headed to the soup kitchen.

Prior the preceding evening, he had little to no knowledge how similar establishment worked, but he remembered that this particular soup kitchen was opened since eleven a.m., thus he arrived there exactly on time.

“You again?” Chase smiled at him in surprise. “I thought you were spending holiday in Indianapolis.”

“Can’t get my mind off something,” he shrugged when entering the kitchen. “Manual work is best cure for it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Chase. “But you’re ealier today, so… Would you mind being the server for some time? As I said, I can’t pay you, but…”

“Gladly. And in return, what about putting a reservation for me on the sink while I take a break to grab lunch somewhere?” he suggested, being unexpectedly thrilled at the purpose of trying another job despite his self-consciousness trying to have a say in this.

“Deal,” Chase seemed satisfied with the proposition. “This way and say my wife I’m sending you. I have to take care of something else.”

Hawkeye nodded and followed the given instructions, meeting Grace at the giant cresset of soup. It smelled definitely better than the soup served in Korea, he thought with a tiny smile, being quite amazed by the consistency as well as its density, being rich with pieces of vegetable, and as Grace was stirring the soup, he caught glimpses of meat, too.

As the first boarders formed a line, Grace only instructed Hawkeye how much of the soup he should put into each plate, and then went on greeting each person with a bright smile. Hawkeye quickly fell into a nice rhythm and the time passed by unnoticed.

“Frank’s going to relive you any minute,” Grace said him after two hours of work. “We’ll wash some plates and they take a break.”

By that Hawkeye understood that Chase was also about replace Grace, basically switching their position in here. What was more intriguing for Hawkeye was the fact Frank was here again. It wasn’t surprising as he remembered that he kept coming back almost daily, still excitement coiled through his veins when waiting for-

“Pierce, I’m here to relieve you.”

The voice went right through Hawkeye, his eye snapping at Frank’s face and a little smile creped upon his lips when seeing who Frank looked… not furious.

“Here you go,” Hawkeye handed him a plate he was just holding, and trying to supress the corny joke his weary mind came up with, he made a space for Frank and headed for the adjacent room.

During the busy noon, Hawkeye learnt that people were coming in four large waves according to Grace – two for lunch and two for dinner, but always one person could receive only one meal per a day. The first wave saw him and Grace serving, during the second they were washing while Chase and Frank were serving, so once Hawkeye was finished with the plates, he changed the apron for his jacket and started towards an Italian restaurant he noticed while going down the street in the morning.

As he was told they wouldn’t need him at least for an hour, he used the time not only to have his lunch, but also to ease the tension in his back. Hunching over a patient, a sink, or a cresset of soup, it was all similar to some extent, making his back stiff and sparkling stings of pain.

As soon as he finished the pasta he had ordered, he felt a bit better, and with his stomach filled, he returned to the soup kitchen. He was rather sure Frank was still to be found here, and even though he was nervous about their next encounter, he was looking forward as it was, indeed, refreshing to see somebody who somewhat shared his war experience.

 _Yeah, but Frank being in Korea_ , his mind pointed out, but Hawkeye didn’t want to think of the way Frank behaved in the war as it would’ve taken all his vigour from asking him about the events of his life. Supposing Frank was forced to eat in the soup kitchen, something must have happened to his property and career, of course, but also to his pride. Still, Frank had always been quite a weak person, so it might haven’t been a difficult task for him to forget his ego and accept things as they were.

Musing about the various possibilities, he complied Chase’s request to take up washing dishes again.

“Frank’s going to help you so you can catch-up,” Chase said good-naturedly, and before Hawkeye wrap his mind around the information, Chase muttered something about fetching some vegetables and slipped outside the door.

And Frank, indeed, joined Hawkeye at the sinks, bringing the first pile of dirty plates to be cleaned. Feeling quite surreal when washing plates with Frank, Hawkeye managed to keep his mouth shut as Frank did the same, working in silence that wasn’t deafening or crowded with tension as he would’ve expected. There was almost nothing between them, making an impression they were complete strangers, which, surprisingly, hurt Hawkeye deep within his soul.

“What happened, Frank?” Hawkeye tried again as they were mute for almost an hour and he wasn’t capable of standing it any longer. His curiosity was reaching the highest level, while he was positively fed up with his eyes, constantly fixed upon Frank’s sunken cheeks. “I won’t tell anybody…”

“You have really nothing better to do but making my miserable life insufferable, don’t you?” he hissed, but Hawkeye’s heart throbbed at the wrath emanating from Frank’s piercing eyes when he looked briefly at his former colleague.

It was good that at least some fire resides within him, Hawkeye thought, yet still feeling sorry for him. Opting for another moment spent in silence to provide Frank with some time to console his nerves, he focused on the dishes, but Frank got hooked on the idea he had from Hawkeye’s behaviour.

“Nothing else to do, nowhere else to be, and not a single smartass remark to make? What happened to YOU, Pierce?” Frank mocked him, bitterness ringing in his tone as viciousness shaped his features into an ugly grimace.

“War happened,” Hawkeye answered, listless. They were staring at each other for a few seconds, gauging the intentions and thoughts of the other one, but something in Hawkeye’s eyes made Frank drop the malevolent smirk. “I’m serious, Frank, I worry about you.”

Snorting unhappily, Frank set another plate aside and it clank awkwardly, all loud and inappropriate. Depression seemed to be synonymic for him as he was so pale, gaunt, and obviously exhausted he even had no energy to argue, to be biting, calling Hawkeye out due to the manner he treated him in Korea.

“It was my birthday yesterday.”

Hawkeye blinked and gazed at Frank in confusion, though grateful he spoke up finally.

“It was my birthday and I wished for something moderately good to happen to me. And it was YOU who showed up here,” another plate made an unpleasant sound as Frank placed it atop the previous one. “Of all people YOU. My life’s just a complete joke,” he mumbled, shaking his head as if regretting he had said anything, and then lapsed back into silence that was, indeed, deafening this time.

Well, he couldn’t blame Frank for being disappointed by the way his wish turn out, but Hawkeye guessed he might be capable of making their reunion as pleasant as possible. In the end, such a coincidence appeared so blatant Hawkeye couldn’t just wave his hand over it, return to Maine, and never think of it again. A quiet voice within his head was telling him to seize the opportunity to do something unexpected, something extraordinary, and if it meant to consider this coincidence lucky and persuade Frank to perceive it the same, he should try. Again, there was nothing he could lose.

Unawares, Frank provided Hawkeye with the best excuse for expressing his sympathy without ostensible display of pity, so clearing his throat, he casted a brief glance at Frank, and then asked:

“What about… what about celebrating your birthday with having lunch together? I’ll pay and you’ll tell me what happened. How does that sound to you?”

It was obvious he was bargaining and dancing on quite thin ice. He wouldn’t have been shocked by Frank yelling at him for being a patronizing asshole, trying to satisfy his own curiosity in exchange for food. It sounded terrible, Hawkeye knew, and almost began regretting what he had attempted, yet… yet he didn’t. He still was positive about helping Frank for which he needed to know at least something, so he could figure the best way of aiding him.

“To nosy to simply let go, huh?” Frank snorted, his voice balancing between disgusted and tired to the core of his bones. There was nothing left in him meant for arguing, and thus he conceded: “Fine, Pierce. Fine. Have it your way.”

Curtly and with irritation written in his features, Frank looked at Hawkeye, and only in that very moment Hawkeye saw something vaguely reminding him of Frank he used to know in Korea.

“But not lunch. I need to be here at noon, so we’ll have diner. Pick me up here at five o’clock, and don’t be late,” he said in a manner bearing traces of a command.

Hawkeye wasn’t able to fight off the urge to smile, and as the smile was about to reach his eyes when he went on washing dishes, he was really wondering how it happened he was so thrilled about having dinner with Frank Burns.

“Pierce, don’t just assume I’m going to pour my heart out to you. We aren’t friends,” warned him Frank after a few minutes, maybe being already annoyed by the sudden happiness Hawkeye was beaming with.

“But we’re not strangers either,” Hawkeye remarked, not expecting much, but as Frank glanced at him sceptically, he maintained their eye contact as if stressing the point.

Once Frank nodded slowly, it felt like a victory.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye informed Chase that he wasn’t coming the next day. He had something else on his mind, and because he hadn’t felt so excited about anything, he decided to go for it. He didn’t remember much about Frank when they were in Korea as he just wasn’t interested in such a narrow-minded idiot, but now, he really wished to make him feel good. He knew Frank loved tapioca pudding, and thus he tried asking the receptionist about a restaurant where he could get it.

It wasn’t much, but he was quite relieved upon learning there, indeed, was a nearby bistro where they served it, and moreover, the interior was really nice as the receptionist stressed. Hawkeye thanked him and went to check the spot, and as he was satisfied with it, he returned to hotel and spent the rest of the day reading. Of course, he had some two or three hours he could be helping Chase and Grace, however, his back was quite sore after the past day of hunching over various things, and lying on bed posed more alluring option. For a while he felt bad about it, but in the end, they had been doing alright probably before him and were about be just fine after he would depart.

The more the time was nearing to five, the more restless Hawkeye grew, and he was kind of clueless about it. He didn’t owe Frank nothing, so why he wanted to make him feel good so much? Why was he nervous about their meeting? His stomach was tied in knots again, and he tried to persuade his mind nothing was going on and he should be only mildly interested in the upcoming dinner, yet his body wasn’t listening to the voice of reason.

Something was drawing him to Frank, and Hawkeye had to admit, it might’ve been his supressed need to be with somebody with war experience. After all, it seemed like the only logical conclusion besides the fact he felt sorry for him, striving to make his life a bit more sufferable for one evening. Of course, he was curious as well, but the nervousness had to be rooted somewhere else…

It was bothering him when he was walking towards the soup kitchen as well, dressed in his most colourful Hawaiian shirt, currently hidden underneath his dark brown jacket. He doubted Frank would appreciate it in his condition, but he opted for wearing the best of his apparel anyway.

About five, he was stepping outside the backdoor of the soup kitchen, calm on the outside, but vibrating with anticipation on the inside. He was becoming worried about this excitement he was feeling when being around Frank, which he certainly didn’t feel in in Korea. The whole situation was so surreal, he was smirking to himself, picturing the reaction of his former colleagues to Hawkeye Pierce, inviting Frank Burns for dinner.

In the next moment, he was once again confronted with reality, as his eyes were lured to the door where Frank Burns appeared, leaving the soup kitchen and looking in Hawkeye’s direction. His small eyes and piercing, angry gaze were still there, yet the man’s posture didn’t resemble the one Frank had in the war. He wasn’t bearing himself straight as his shoulders were hunched, his expression tired, but from the bags underneath his eyes, he evoked the impression of being quite a haunted man, trapped in an everlasting circle of despair.

Before Hawkeye could succumb to a powerful wave of sympathy, he successfully fought for a less depressing thought that supplied him with information regarding Frank’s apparel.

“You’ve got yourself a new coat,” he remarked, unable to force away the joyful smile he flashed Frank with, ogling the nice piece of clothes. In the end, he might haven’t been the only one who tried to look fine despite the fact their options were considerably limited due different reasons.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Pierce, I didn’t buy it because of you,” Frank said instead of greeting, following Hawkeye’s approach. “I’ve bought it for my birthday, but I wouldn’t have been able to pay for it on my own… Chase and Grace gave me some for the work I’m doing day by day for years,” he explained, and Hawkeye wasn’t sure whether he wanted just to say it, or to point out he was a surgeon working for such a long time as a server and dishwasher in a soup kitchen.

Careful not to remind any bad blood between them, he asked Frank if a bistro would be alright.

“Sure, I get you don’t want to spend much on me,” Frank sounded bitter, but not much more than during their other conversations in past days.

“That’s not it, Frank, really,” Hawkeye snorted, unwilling to fully acknowledge once again that he was trying to convince Frank about his intentions. “I’ve got enough money to pay for two meals in a luxurious establishment, but-“

“Yeah, brag about money in front of a homeless guy,” hissed Frank at him, his eyes intense as if aiming at burning a hole in Hawkeye’s consciousness.

The remark set Hawkeye’ blood in fire, retorting passionately:

“Wasn’t it a notorious Frank Burns who believed that every man has a right to be poor?”

That hurt, he knew when Frank’s stern expression shattered, his eyes being pointed forward, lips forming one thin line. However, he was caught off guard by Frank’s answer:

“I was,” he nodded, “but that was a long time ago, Pierce.”

Pondering whether it was a poor excuse of an excuse at all, Hawkeye remained silent before he returned to the unfinished sentence.

“I meant to say that I’ve never been a fan of fancy stuff, so… I thought we might actually feel better in a bistro,” he explained, looking for any signs of stiffness in Frank’s posture, signalling he was strictly opposed, but the man only shrugged.

“I guess it’s not a bad idea. Lead the way,” he stubbornly stared in front of himself, as if trying to ignore Hawkeye was really there with him, however, once Hawkeye moved, Frank paid attention to walk next to his former bunkmate, their steps matching.

As they went quietly, Hawkeye heard subtle growling coming from Frank, and it struck him that he could be ill, but then again, if he had been seriously ill, they wouldn’t have let him work in a soup kitchen. Maybe even Frank had enough common sense not to do it as well, yet Hawkeye still wasn’t entirely persuaded that Frank had changed to such extent he would place other people’s well-being before his own.

“Is it… bad?” he asked, curious, but caring, which he attempted to show in his low voice when looking sidelong at him. “I’m mean… living… like this…”

It sounded terribly once more, but this time, Frank didn’t lash out as he only huffed, buried his hands deeper into his coat.

“It could be worse, Pierce. Honestly, I’m doing better than other homeless people around even though it’s not a huge success. I’m surviving, that’s important,” he said unexpectedly matter-of-factly, however, Hawkeye noticed the high pitch of his tone, signalling he might’ve been trying to persuade himself rather than Hawkeye.

But he took it, being satisfied by the fact they were able to have a conversation without accusing one another of being jerks.

“Grace had helped me a lot,” Frank elaborated, speaking under his breath, but because they were going through quiet allies, Hawkeye heard him well. “Gave me some warm clothes and whenever I need, I can stay the night in their cellar. There’s a shower, too, so I tend to sleep there once or twice a week. During winters, I sleep there daily, but… I’m trying not to exploit their kindness,” he sighed in the end, glancing at Hawkeye with one corner of his lips twitched into a bitter smile. “You haven’t seen this coming, have you? Frank Burns, not seeing kindness as foolish and weak.”

Reciprocating the look, Hawkeye shook his head.

“I haven’t,” he admitted, being quite moved by what Frank said. It was just so strange listening to such words being voiced by Frank Burns, by Ferret Face, by an idiot, and therefore, it took a few minutes for Hawkeye to comprehend that he should approach the man next to him differently. “Makes me wanna say who are you and what have you done to Frank Burns,” he added, chuckling before his laugh altered into an exhale coloured with disbelief because Frank snorted, yet this time there was some real amusement in the sound.

“Yeah… things changed,” Frank said quietly after a moment and the atmosphere lapsed back into a melancholic one. For a second, Hawkeye sensed the tension between them disappearing, but once he held the door for Frank to enter the bistro, cold indifference returned to his eyes and a little frown creased his forehead. “Things changed and usually bring about nothing good.”

“What do you mean?” Hawkeye looked around, trying to find the source of Frank’s disgruntlement. The interior seemed perfectly fine for a bistro, cushions in the farthest corner might need replacement for being too tacky, but overall, Hawkeye didn’t mind eating here.

“You see the waitresses? When I was here a year ago, all of them were wearing decent uniforms, but now? You can see basically everything and it’s disgusting,” he growled, staring disapprovingly at the one of the waitresses before facing Hawkeye,” Where do you want to sit?”

“Doesn’t matter, pick a place that suits you,” Hawkeye shrugged, while making a mental note about Frank’s unchanging conservative attitude, at least in this way. Hawkeye personally wasn’t cross as he thought the uniforms were cute, and even when taking Frank’s opinion in consideration, he didn’t think their costumes were revealing that much. Just regular uniform these days, he mused when following Frank, sitting across him at the table.

Frank was the first one to snatch the menu, and because Hawkeye couldn’t care less, he only assured him he can choose whatever he wanted and fixed his eyes upon the board that was listing the offered meals as well.

“Hi, boys, what is it gonna be tonight?” a warmly smiling girl in her twenties appeared at their table a few minutes later, and as Hawkeye smiled back at her, trying to remember which dish he was about to order, Frank reminded Hawkeye whom he used to be by saying:

“Aren’t you ashamed? Swaggering around in this… this disgrace of a uniform?”

“What are you talking about, honey? That’s the best costume you can get in a business like this,” she defended herself. “It’s nice, easy to clean, and fitting,” she added, but upon seeing Frank wasn’t convinced at all, opening his mouth already to criticize her some more, she shook her head vehemently and stopped him by asking him, her tone derisive: “Or are you so pissed because you just can’t appreciate woman’s body? Maybe you’re just a bugger, honey, and you even don’t know it.”

Fortunately, the bistro was half-empty so no more than two other guests heard her, still Hawkeye felt pretty bad for Frank. Not only the girl’s behaviour was unacceptable, but it hurt him witnessing Frank regaining some of his former passion for scolding people, but being quickly robbed of it. On the other hand, Hawkeye couldn’t miss that Frank didn’t freak out about that accusation that would’ve made him furious in Korea. No, he only bit his lower lip, gazed on the table, and refused to say anything else but mumbling what he was going to have for dinner when the waitress repeated her question in a victorious voice.

He was probably too ashamed to look in anybody’s eyes, Hawkeye thought, not really pitying Frank for that as he knew there was nothing wrong with being queer, but… he didn’t like when somebody miserable was made even worse.

Once Frank ordered Beef Stew, Hawkeye revealed he would like to have Beef Stroganoff, and then the waitress left them in an awkward silence. Frank was mildly shivering, his cheeks flushed as he stubbornly stared at the desk. He looked angry, alright, but kept the wrath inside, which was new to him and somehow… incomprehensible as Hawkeye had always let his anger out because otherwise he felt he was going crazy.

“That was nasty…” Hawkeye commented on the situation, but then again, there was something he forgot to order. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he assured Frank whom flashed him with a quick, sceptical look before Hawkeye jumped to his feet and approached the same waitress.

For a brief second, he was capable of believing Frank might’ve overcome his homophobia and was just enraged by the waitress’ bluntness, so he was rather persuasive when informing the girl that it was Frank’s birthday, and if she didn’t want him to complain to her boss, she should give them two tapioca puddings for free. She seemed positively torn between being sorry and furious, which satisfied Hawkeye immensely together with her final nod to the suggestion.

“If somebody spits in it, I’ll figure out in a second. I’m a doctor, you know, I work with saliva and similar things…” Hawkeye winked at her when leaving her, seating himself back across Frank, giving him an encouraging smile. “The desert’s gonna be on the house.”

A grateful little smile touched Frank’s lips as anger already faded away from his features, bearing only the usual combination of sorrow and exhaustion. The smile brightened up his face a lot though, making Hawkeye marvel at that minute but heart-warming change.

He used to stumble upon that idea in the past as well, but as Hawkeye was observing Frank, being all tired, shabby, and poor, it seemed to confirm his theory that the more Frank suffered, the better person he had a chance of becoming. Of course, the current situation wasn’t the best example, still Hawkeye was quite sure there was something true about this idea.

“You… you stayed in Korea until the end of the war?” asked Frank tentatively, and Hawkeye was capable of staring for a few seconds, struggling to believe Frank was attempting a small talk. And he was far from turning his offer down.


	4. Chapter 4

To Hawkeye’s further surprise, Frank proved himself to be a good listener. Hawkeye enlightened him on the subject of the time spent in Korea after Frank left, describing what he and BJ were up to, he mentioned some interesting cases, the invention of a new clamp, plus a brief introduction to Frank’s replacement.

“You wouldn’t like, Charles,” he concluded his narration just before their meals arrived.

“Why? Was a better surgeon, wasn’t he?” Frank snorted, which again reminded Hawkeye the man in front of him changed drastically. He had made obviously peace with being an inferior surgeon, still it didn’t stop Hawkeye from teasing him some more.

“That, and he was actually very smart,” he answered, grinning at Frank who huffed, flashing Hawkeye with one highly annoyed expression, but then he narrowed his back when looking down at his order, sniffing, savouring. “I’ve done some reading you know, Pierce, and I dare say I’m not such an… imbecile I used to be.”

After a few seconds of silence, Frank looked up to Hawkeye, smiling at him in curious amusement.

“What?” he barked, clueless what was so funny here.

“I hope so, Frank,” Hawkeye shrugged, emanating just good will and nothing ironic at all. “I do hope you’ve broadened your horizons.”

“There’s not much to do anyway when you’re living in the streets,” he grimaced, and Hawkeye’s heart swelled at that, feeling sorry for Frank, but his former bunkmate seemed unfazed by talking about it. “When the light is good, I read outside, and during winters, I read a lot in the soup kitchen,” he elaborated, waiting for the Stew to cold down a bit.

“Go on,” Hawkeye nudged him, already digging a fork into his meal, but ready to learn something about Frank’s current life. “What have you read recently?”

“Mostly medical magazines. The local library was willing to give me some as nobody else really cared about them, and even though some were out dated, I think… I think I’ve learned a thing or two,” revealed Frank, speaking quietly as if worried about being heard by anybody else. “And Ernest Hemingway.”

Casting a tentative look at Hawkeye, trying to figure out whether he was still intrigued, and because he was, Frank continued. His voice was weak though, evoking an impression he was ashamed of himself or unsure whether he wanted to speak about it.

“I wished to read something about the war and to see it from another perspective as… It changes a man, you know?”

Nodding, Hawkeye felt the feeble connection between them growing stronger despite his doubts concerning Frank’s affinity to war and his overall patriotism. However, Frank opted for eating in the next second, and until they didn’t finish their meals, not a single word was exchanged between them.

“I would’ve thought you’d call Hemingway a traitor and hardly a man,” Hawkeye said, striving to bring their conversation back to life, but something in Frank’s cautious expression told him it would not be easy. His eyes were suspicious once again, his posture tense, yet simultaneously he looked so damn sad, it urged Hawkeye into motion.

He leaned over the table and asked, confidently: “What happened to you, Frank?”

He hoped to put as much genuine care and empathy into his tone, he was totally caught off guard by anger flickering in Frank’s small eyes, successfully making him back off and put some distance between them. Dumbfounded, he stared at Frank, gritting through his teeth:

“Pierce, you’re so bold, so self-confident that you assume that buying me diner and coaxing me into a pointless small talk give your right to demand answers? You must be desperate to know that you don’t mind being so pathetic as trading food for information to sate your nosiness.”

Frank literally spitted the last words in disgust, throwing Hawkeye into a state of awe, reducing him just to stare at Frank, struggling to believe it was Frank Burns moralizing him and… and being at least partially right.

“I bet you’re buying me diner just to feel better about yourself,” he grimaced viciously, poison dripping from each of his words. “and I think you don’t care about me at all. It’s only about your notorious curiosity.”

Gawking at Frank, Hawkeye was trying to process what Frank told him. His blood was boiling and he was losing his temper, still he wasn’t that proud not to acknowledge that his former bunkmate was onto something.

“Let’s say you’re not talking complete nonsense here,” Hawkeye cleared his throat, suddenly facing insecurity in front of Frank whom managed to pull off the most intelligent couple of sentences Hawkeye had ever heard from him, yet it didn’t stop Hawkeye from arguing with him. It was either lecturing Frank or… or himself. “But I really do care, Frank. It’s not only about me being a nosy prick. God, Frank, you’ve been successfully showing me you’ve changed and I see it. I see you’re a different person, but now you say such crappy things about me… I may not be perfect, but I want to help not for the sake of absorbing some information. It’s about helping others, which I see as normal. Natural. It’s just something I do, Frank, and I like doing it.”

His jaw clenched, Frank stared at Hawkeye undeterred, his look ice-cold.

“You hated me, so why would you want to help me? There are thousands of homeless people in the streets of USA, so why me in particular?” he asked, his voice firm and even.

Hawkeye sighed quietly, his eyes wandering around the bistro in order to avoid Frank’s.

“I hated you. That’s a fact and honestly, I think it was totally justified. You wanted me to be hanged, Frank! For not listening to your stupid orders!” he snapped, a wave of wrath giving him courage to look in Frank’s face. Once he noticed Frank was about to counterattack his argument, Hawkeye shook his head dismissively, adding a bit amicably, “but I don’t hate you anymore. I’ve seen so much hatred in my life I’m done. I have no energy left to hate and… I think that’s what we have in common, don’t we?”

“I guess…” Frank conceded, tension leaving his features gradually.

“I think the both of us changed and maybe…” Hawkeye hesitated, still slightly struggling with the idea of being on almost friendly terms with Frank, yet it seemed like a good thing to do. Like a mature thing to do. “maybe we could start anew. I don’t know about me, but I’ve got the impression, and I hope I’m right about this, you’ve changed for the better.”

Contemplating Hawkeye’s suggestion, Frank didn’t avert his gaze for some time, but he nodded slowly in the end, just before their dessert arrived.

“This two bad boys are on the house. Happy birthday,” said the waitress with a long face, forcing a smile in Frank’s direction.

As she left, Frank was staring at his tapioca pudding with raised eyebrows.

“Tapioca pudding, Pierce?” he said in disbelief, fixing his wide open eyes at Hawkeye who simpered, obviously happy with himself as he was genuinely glad he pleasantly surprised Frank.

“No, thanks, I’ve got mine,” he said, grinning. “Happy belated birthday, Frank,” he wished him, and watching in satisfaction the way Frank dag his teaspoon into the pudding, Hawkeye started to eat the dessert as well. He had never been a fan of tapioca, but seeing Frank darting between devouring it and savouring it made it up for him.

“There was… there was one story that opened my eyes,” Frank spoke up when scraping out the rest of the pudding from the bowl. “By Francis Scott Fitzgerald. It’s called The Diamond As Big As the Ritz. Together with Hemingway’s Soldier’s Home… those were the one I saw myself in. It… it took me some time to… comprehend why it spoke so much to me. It explained me why I felt so broken after… after my recovery from Margaret.”

In silence, Hawkeye listened to Frank, keeping quite not to say something inappropriate that would disrupt the moment.

“And then I… it all went south. The change of me destroyed everything I had. The only thing I was left with was the knowledge that I had a chance of becoming a better person. Those people in those stories… and also of other authors who experience war… They returned broken by the war, but to me… war was the catalyst,” he said, looking up to face Hawkeye who stopped moving at all, carefully listening to Frank’s monologue. “They returned and felt like they had nothing to live for, nothing to do as everything seemed pointless to them. However, for me, it was the beginning.”

Although, Hawkeye still had no idea what exactly went south in Frank’s life, he was utterly stunned by this revelation and he would’ve been entirely satisfied with this information.

“I see that sometimes I slip back to my old self and I still have urge to hate you for what you’ve done to me, but…” he waved it off, but as if he realized Hawkeye deserved to know and suffer due to his previous actions, he decided to enlighten Hawkeye, eye sparkling with self-satisfaction. “You have never expected me to have long lasting consequences of your pranks, have you?”

Unsettled by the lump in his throat, Hawkeye didn’t say anything. He only shook his head.

“But I guess you recall crating me during my sleep,” Frank set aside the empty bowl, looking at Hawkeye expectantly. Upon receiving Hawkeye’s nod, his lips formed an ugly smile. “Soon after I returned to Fort Wayne, I developed claustrophobia, Pierce. I kept waking up in the night, scared to death from suffocation. Since then, I’ve been unable to enter very small rooms,” he revealed, eyes gleaming with devious triumph.

Frank’s confession felt like a kick in Hawkeye’s guts. Eyes dropping to the table as Hawkeye tried to rekindle the memory, yet he was already regretting the prank. Again. He was against it from the beginning, but Trapper convinced him it’d be hilarious. Although it was funny at first, Hawkeye was uneasy about it, and in the end it was him who freed Frank quite shortly after Frank woke up. He was sorry back then and was sorry now, feeling like a complete asshole… He would’ve gone crazy had somebody done this to him.

“I’m an idiot, Frank, and I’m really sorry,” Hawkeye said, the words flowing naturally out of his mouth, coming right from his heart. “I’m claustrophobic myself…. It… it was terrible thing to do and I’m seriously apologizing for what I’ve done to you.”

Frank remained silent, but when Hawkeye glanced up and met his eyes, his former bunkmate gave him an annoyed look.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore and I shouldn’t have told you…” he sighed, obviously torn between his two inner sides. “I was a terrible person and you did some terrible things to me, but… you don’t hate me, I don’t hate you. As you said, the both of us seem to be broken to some extent, so… I just say thank you, Pierce, for the diner and tapioca pudding. I haven’t tasted it for years…”

“Yeah, I hoped you’d like it,” Hawkeye was relieved Frank decided not to talk about the war as he was sure he was going to spend some sleepless nights, reproaching himself how much he hurt Frank. He didn’t tend to think much of consequences of his actions, yet usually they weren’t severe. With a few exceptions… and Frank was the exception, making Hawkeye feel remorse over his reckless behaviour. At that point, when he was almost sheepishly looking at Frank, gazing around the bistro, appearing to be in an uplifted mood and less tired, an urge to make Frank’s life more pleasant introduced itself.

After all, it had already started with the tapioca pudding.

“I remembered you enjoyed it in Korea, so I thought it would be a fitting birthday gift,” he admitted, offering Frank a friendly smile that was partially reciprocated. Well, a set of wrinkles emerged around Frank’s eyes and mouth, his expression was significantly grateful though.

“Thank you, Pierce, that is… unexpected,” Frank said, and then excused himself, while Hawkeye opted for paying for the food.

While doing so, he suddenly realized he still had no idea how Frank ended up homeless, but what was more surprising to him was that he wasn’t eager to hear it anymore. He had learnt enough during the diner and was quite happy about Frank opening up to him at least a bit, and moreover, it seemed they were able to go along quite well despite a few blunders on the road.

He set his mind on the possibility of arranging another meeting with Frank, giving him more time to decide whether he wished to reveal the cause of his downfall. His own patience shocked him as well, but as Frank said, it might’ve been connected with their change carried about by the war.

Coughing quietly, Frank returned and agreed on leaving the bistro. Once they were outside, they sort of automatically started walking somewhere, and because the diner was quite fine, Hawkeye sensed he was about to get thirsty for something else than a glass of Coke.

“Wanna grab some beer?”

The question Hawkeye raised never received its answer. Hawkeye noticed Frank’s cough, but only when he tried to speak up, he heard the growl within it. It didn’t sound serious, however, as Frank continued coughing, unable to form a single word, Hawkeye grew worried.

“You haven’t coughed almost the whole evening,” he remarked, eyeing the man closely. “It’s the cold air irritating you, isn’t it?”

With his hand on his mouth, Frank glanced at Hawkeye for a brief moment, nodding, and then he slowly began recovering.

“The cold air and abrupt transitions from a warm environment into a cold one and vice versa,” he rasped, doing his best to avert another cough attack.

“What do you think it is?”

“If I knew it I’d cure it!” Frank snapped and started coughing again, looking all angry and frustrated.

Standing in the middle of an empty street, cold wind wafting around them, Hawkeye trembled involuntarily.

“It’s not tuberculosis or anything… anything serious. Despite your scepticism towards my skills, I’m able to effectively diagnose all diseases having cough as one of the symptoms, and this isn’t one, Pierce,” he managed after a while, narrowing his back, relief obvious in his face.

Hawkeye doubted Frank could’ve cured it now in his position, but drawing back to his determinatio to help Frank in any way, he frowned, and suggested: “No blood? No waking up in the middle of the night with cough attacks? No-“

“No, Pierce! Nothing!” he rasped again, his voice ringing with despair before it calmed down. “No…” Frank shook his head, and as silence stretched between them, Hawkeye heard the growl coming from Frank’s throat.

“That’s strange…” he admitted, not being sure what to make of it. “You do not look ill. Tired and slender, of course, but…” he was thinking aloud, however, as the saving idea didn’t seem to occur any time soon, he said decisively: “I’d like to do a check-up, Frank. I’m always travelling with the basic equipment and I’ll do my best to… to help you.”

“I can’t believe you’ve just sauntered into my life for the second time, and suddenly appear to make my life better when you were trying to make it miserable in the past,” whispered Frank, probably in order not to tease his throat and vocal chords. Still, Hawkeye was able to hear venom slipping into his voice once more.

“I’ve thought we cleared this up,” said Hawkeye, attempting at convincing Frank by being utterly reasonable and mature. “I know it feels patronizing… but I’d like to help. Genuinely. I’m not doing it to show off my skills or to contribute to my already shining legacy of a doctor – Samaritan,” he tilted his head. “I work in my birthplace and my dad had issued his patients would get most of their expenses covered, Frank… My attention is free of charge.”

Frank looked awfully suspicious and after all, Hawkeye didn’t find it weird as inviting Frank for diner was one thing, but inviting him over…?

“I know you won’t like it, but I need to tell you that if you agree, you’ll spend the night on the couch in my room. We don’t know each other that well to sleep in one bed,” Hawkeye didn’t resist making a joke, which failed to fare, however, Frank seemed to be considering the offer. Well, it might’ve been caused by the fact another couch attack hit him and he wasn’t capable of arguing.

“It’s warm in here and I’ll give you the whole check-up. What can you possibly lose?” he shrugged, being quite open to discussion that wasn’t happening due to Frank’s condition.

After a while, Frank calmed down, casting a wary look in Hawkeye’s direction.

“It’s the third time I’m relenting to your offers, Pierce, and also the last one,” he warned him. “Alright, lead the way, but do not forget I’m going mostly because I’m myself worried about the state of my lungs.”

Corners of Hawkeye’s mouth stretching into a warm smile, Frank rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Maybe…” he sighed. “I shall be grateful to you, but it’s so damn hard to trust you,” he revealed, looking all pained before he made a decision and his expression softened a bit. “Let’s say I’m not able to trust you fully, but I’d like to display my gratitude with a gesture… It was my birthday after all, so we might swap the beer for something stronger.”

“Frank?” Hawkeye’s eyes widened as he voiced Frank’s name in a high pitched manner. “You’re urging me to drink hard liquor with you?”

“Maybe,” seemed Frank slightly unsure about it, hesitating whether Hawkeye wouldn’t perceive it as irresponsible when he was unwell and Hawkeye about to do him a check-up. “I saved a bottle of rum… nothing high quality, but it was a Christmas gift and…”

“Of course,” Hawkeye grinned.

“It’s nothing fancy, really…”

“It’s fine, Frank, let’s fetch it,” he said enthusiastically, marvelling at the sudden light, sparkling in Frank’s eyes as he found his suggestion appealing. “I’ll check on your lungs and do some other boring medical stuff, and then we can have a drink.”

Under different circumstances Hawkeye knew he wouldn’t have mixed alcohol with work, yet when listening to Frank’s cough, he was already thinking there was no physical problem. According to what Frank told him, it didn’t resemble any illness or disease he had encountered, moreover, he had to be quite healthy if Chase and Grace allowed him to serve food. No, it must’ve been something that wasn’t contagious. Something connected with Frank’s state of mind… something with the demons he was yet to fight.


	5. Chapter 5

Quickly, they returned to the soup kitchen where Frank got the bottle of rum, and then they headed towards the hotel Hawkeye was staying in. Climbing up the stairs, Hawkeye listened to Frank’s breathing that subsequently turned into another cough attack once they stopped at the door of Hawkeye’s rooms. This time, Hawkeye understood it was the transition’s from cold to warm air doing, yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling of worry.

“Do you think opening a window would help?” he asked when they entered the modest room with a large bed, small table, chair, and an old, but still quite comfortable couch.

“It might,” Frank managed to say, observing Hawkeye whom nodded, opened the window and got rid of his coat.

“Sit down,” he gestured to the couch, “wrap yourself in a blanket if you want.”

Utterly obedient, Frank stretched the blanket around his shoulders, ogling the room subtly, but it didn’t slip Hawkeye’s attention. Leaning against the wall next to window, waiting the air to get cooler inside, he finally had some time to fully acknowledge it was Frank Burns who was in his room. But it was a different Frank Burns. This man was trying to be a better person, reading, learning, trying. Hawkeye saw himself succumbing to some unexpected admiration for him, coming from the information that Frank wasn’t giving up. He fought and tried, which was something urging Hawkeye to help him again.

Suddenly, there weren’t only pity and sympathy. There was something more Hawkeye wasn’t sure he could put a finger on, but it was connected with the fact that Frank went to diner with him, expressed gratitude for the tapioca pudding, and agreed on following him to Hawkeye’s room to have a check-up. He actually listened to what Hawkeye had to tell him without dismissing him anymore.

That was something, Hawkeye mused, smiling a bit when closing the window. Frank’s cough ceased slightly, forming into a few shallow coughs per minute, which appeared to be a condition Hawkeye was able to work with. Still, Frank looked so fragile and haunted when being wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the couch, that Hawkeye’s need to lift his spirits became insufferable in its nagging to be voiced.

“Frank, I know I’ll repeat myself, but I’m really sorry for some things I’ve done to you. I feel like a trashy person for-“

“Eh, don’t mention it again, Pierce,” Frank stopped him, shaking his head when looking up to Hawkeye.

“No, Frank, I… Well, as the war went by, I might’ve started to understand certain stuff you’ve done when you were in Korea. I might disagree with them, but… I do not hate you, Frank, I would’ve never wanted you to end up homeless,” he revealed, being aware of getting vulnerable in front of Frank, which he didn’t like in general, yet Frank had earned this advantage if he were about to strike.

“I deserve this,” Frank argued, his voice surprisingly stern, his look determined when maintaining eye contact with Hawkeye who approached him, sitting atop of the table now. “I believe I deserve this for whom I used to be.”

Speechless due to Frank’s opinion on his current condition, Hawkeye stared at him, frowning.

“What did you wish for then, if you think you deserve to be poor and on the streets?”

“Some… some other things to change…” he muttered fuzzily, drawing the blanket closer to his body as he lowered his gaze. “Can we start with the check-up?”

The change of the topic wasn’t unwelcome, so Hawkeye agreed, urged Frank to undress the upper half of his body and sit on the table. He then put on the heating, ensuring Frank wasn’t going to catch a cold, considering his cough got better in the past minutes. In the end, he opened his suitcase, fetching the first aid kit and other basic equipment he brought along.

Although he didn’t budge when seeing Frank’s torso, he felt hit by the sight. Of course, he could’ve anticipated his overall change, but still… he remembered Frank was quite well-built in Korea, his hairy chest strong, his arms muscled, but as his cheeks were sunken now, his expression haunted, the rest of the body mirrored the conditions Frank was living in. However, Hawkeye knew it could’ve been worse. His former bunkmate was gaunt, but malnourishment didn’t belong among his issues, and in terms of his very pale skin, Hawkeye thought he had always been like that.

“For a homeless person, you look good, Frank,” Hawkeye commented on once he check on his ribs, stomach, listened to his heartbeat, and checked his pressure. “I’d use your blood sample, of course, but… I expect Grace and Chase had you checked before they let you work with food…”

“Yeah, they paid for some of the expenses,” Frank confirmed. “I had this cough back when I turned up at their doors, but because the doctors didn’t find anything severely wrong with me, Chase took me in.”

Hawkeye nodded, looked into Frank’s throat to see that his tonsils perfectly fine.

“When have it started?” he asked, when packing his things up as he didn’t figure out what was wrong with Frank either. He listened to his breathing and there was nothing amiss, however, besides the blood sample, he could use a roentgen as well. His cough might’ve been caused by numerous reasons, yet Hawkeye hadn’t given up on his theory it had something to do with Frank’s mind. Such a sudden change… going crazy in Tokyo, then going home to his wife and children, hitting rock-bottom regarding his social status, living on the streets…

“A few weeks after I…” Frank froze up when dressing up again, probably hesitating whether he really wanted to reveal anything about his past, but then he opted for a partial answer: “It was after I was informed about some lousy investments of mine. As my life started to go south, the cough appeared, and yes, I see the correlation here, Pierce,” he said sharply, glancing briefly at Hawkeye in warning.

“I’m aware it can be a symptom of some underlying mental problem, but I dare you calling me crazy for that,” he hissed, slumping back on the couch heavily.

“I wasn’t about to do that,” Hawkeye assured him, watching Frank for a while, and then he informed him he would go to the receptionist to ask for two glasses. Or mugs, it didn’t matter to him what he was going to drink rum from. As he came back and pour rum into the glasses, handing one of them to Frank, he offered him a gentle smile when saying, “You weren’t that bad, Frank. You deserve better.”

And upon these words what he really meant, he clinked his glass with Frank’s and tasted the liquid that wasn’t half bad actually. Heat gushed down his throat, while a wave of a different kind of heat settled in his chest when he spotted that little, yet very much pleased smile upon Frank’s lips before he sipped on the rum as well.

“You know… Margaret thought so as well in the end,” Hawkeye carefully broached the sensitive subject, watching Frank’s reaction whether it would be best to back off or to pursue the conversation further. “I’m not kidding, Frank. She did.”

Frank swallowed the alcohol and shook his head vehemently.

“I don’t care about her anymore,” he claimed, staring into his glass, and Hawkeye wasn’t sure it was truth, but wouldn’t have thought weird any of the options.

“But I do,” Hawkeye asserted, sauntering to the other corner of the couch where he sat down and drank a bit of rum. He knew he was ice-dancing again, however, Frank didn’t look like he was going to get angry. Even the slightest hint of interest gleamed in his eyes when he looked sceptically at Hawkeye. “Maybe you ought to know she’s divorced Penobscott. Which was probably the best decision she could’ve done,” he smiled to himself, reminiscing about Margaret, being happy to be free again. “He wasn’t worth of her anyway.”

For a while, Hawkeye was expecting Frank to disbelieve him, asking at least one question about Margaret and her former husband, but the only thing Frank said was:

“She never really loved me, Pierce, so… why should I care?”

His voice getting whiny, it suddenly seemed like they were thrown back to Korea where Frank grew quite pathetic about getting dumped by Margaret. Hawkeye couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or slightly touched, still he felt obliged to correct Frank’s opinion on Margaret.

“No, she… she didn’t, Frank, but you embodied what she perceived as suitable army material,” Hawkeye explained. “You were the first one who passed the test, which is… I’m not sure it was good, but after all, Frank, she confessed to me that the ideal man should have about 3% of you. It’s not much, but hey, she changed a lot after she got divorced… There was a chance she wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.”

Frank grimaced bitterly, sipped on his rum, and shifted on the couch.

“Relax, Frank, I’m not going to throw you out because you make yourself comfortable,” Hawkeye winked at him, witnessed another Frank’s bitter expression, and literally splayed on the couch himself, prompting his legs on the small table. “You’re staying the night here regardless of what you say or do. That’s a promise.”

It was a dangerous promise, Hawkeye surmised, but he didn’t foresee Frank being too ungrateful to do anything really horrendous. He might’ve remained whiny and bossy, however, Hawkeye trusted he wouldn’t get utterly vicious if he didn’t push him, and therefore, Hawkeye kept the information about Margaret’s ideal man having not only 3% of Frank, but also 10% of Hawkeye to himself.

“How… how has Margaret changed?”

The quiet, honest question caught Hawkeye off guard, and a little smile crept upon his lips.

“We became close friends,” he said at first. “At some point, we started to understand each other and… and mutual respect helped us a lot to soften our differences. Together with Klinger, we stayed in Korea until the end of the war, which probably bonded us even more. We just saw everything…” his voice trailed off as Hawkeye’s mind got flooded with memories and his heart with pain he knew would never go away.

Gulping down the rest of the liquid in the glass, he added: “I haven’t seen her since we returned though, so maybe her fear from remembering the atrocities is greater than her wish to see me again. Want some more?”

Holding the bottle of rum, Hawkeye looked at Frank who nodded and placed the glass on the table. Silence among them was disturbed only by the sound of pouring rum, neither of them was prepared to say something, focused on their own thoughts.

“If fact, you’re the only one I’ve met. Since the war ended, I mean,” Hawkeye revealed after a while.

Frank snorted, taking the glass. Hawkeye offered his own to a new toast, “To Frank Burns. One and only, unique and so mundane at once!”

While the corner of Frank’s mouth twitched, Hawkeye grinned when their glasses clinked, and both of them drank some more of the quite decent rum.

“Pierce… what are you doing here anyway? In Indianapolis?” asked Frank the most obvious question that should’ve been raised as soon as they met in soup kitchen. “I thought life was just making fun of me again, but…”

“You wished for a change, so here I am,” Hawkeye grinned for a second, but then shook his head, saying, “I didn’t felt need to tell you like you didn’t feel need to ask. Just a freak coincidence. I attended a wedding of my childhood friend here, even though I hesitated if I wanted to go in the first place.”

“Was the wedding fine at least?”

“No,” Hawkeye laughed. “I’m not sorry I was rude to the groom and consequently asked not to return ever again,” he admitted, being, indeed, alright with what he had said to Donny. It didn’t matter much to him.

“You should’ve put him in a body castform like Penobscott,” Frank chuckled and Hawkeye’s eye glowed with surprised, yet so happy light he wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore.

But yes, Frank Burns suggesting something mischievous seemed like the thing Hawkeye needed at the time, and not only his eyes were shining, his chest felt light and his heart thumped at the idea of doing something crazy with Frank. With somebody who was capable of understanding him to some extent, with somebody capable of forgiving him he had brought claustrophobia on him…

And judging from the quiet, friendly smile Frank was giving him, Hawkeye realized neither of them regretted meeting each other as the first of their former colleagues at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, I'm not sure how often I'll manage to add new chapters as my work for school is killing me. However, I've managed to finish the outline of the whole story, so hopefully, the process of writing won't be that exhausting :D Thanks for the support you're showing me. I'm really grateful.


	6. Chapter 6

They finished the bottle, and being a bit tipsy, they went to sleep. Frank received a blanket and enjoyed a peaceful sleep on the couch, relishing the warmth in here, while Hawkeye drifted off face-down with his limbs spread on the bed in all directions. In the morning, it was too hot for him to sleep, so he woke up quite early, and because Frank was still asleep, he left him a note on the table and headed to the store to grab some breakfast for them.

Packing his pockets with pastry, he also bought two cups of coffee next door, promising the lady the paper cups were great idea. With his hands burning and his mouth churning out one curse after another, he kicked the door of his room to alert his guest.

Frank must’ve been already awake because he opened the door in a split second, and barely did he stepped aside to avoid rushing Hawkeye, quickly placing the cups on the table, waving his hands like a madman.

“I’ve always perceived you as a ruthless and insane person, Pierce, but to be almost bulldozed by you…” Frank mocked him, shaking his head disapprovingly, but when he spotted what Hawkeye brought him, he got quiet. At first, Hawkeye thought that Frank was about to argue with him, stressing he didn’t need his charity, but as his former bunkmate chewed on his lower lip and observed Hawkeye, thinking thoroughly about something, the possible tension between them disappeared.

“I brought us something. Help yourself if you’re hungry,” Hawkeye said then, sitting back on the couch and snatching one of the croissants.

“Thank you,” Frank muttered in the end, followed Hawkeye’s example and started eating, slowly sipping on the hot coffee. He was silent during the meal, and Hawkeye was becoming restless as he sensed there was something going on Frank’s mind. Something important enough that he refrained from defending his self-sufficiency.

“I’m sorry, Frank, I haven’t helped you with your cough. It seems to be a problem with your past, but that’s something I… can’t undo,” Hawkeye tried to coax Frank into a conversation, moreover, he wanted to show him he wasn’t going to push him into confession. It stopped bothering him he didn’t know anything about Frank’s past, as he found himself interested more in this present Frank Burns instead of the former one, and if the mutual interest had a chance survive, maybe Frank would tell him later.

“That’s okay, I haven’t expected anything else,” Frank shrugged, finishing his coffee, and crackling his knuckles nervously. “Listen, Pierce, if you’re so eager to help, I may have something for you. And you’d help me by this as well.”

“Fire away,” Hawkeye, hooked on, looked at him curiously.

“When I came to Indianapolis, I was in a real bad condition and… I guess I wouldn’t have survived if there wasn’t for a certain woman who let me sleep in her yard. Well, she lives on a ground floor in a small room, but she gave me some blankets, two coats, and a pair of good shoes to withstand cold… And some food as well. I’d promised her to pay her back when I’m better, but I’m… I’m afraid, Pierce, it’s too late.”

“She’s ill?”

“Yeah, and it’s serious. I have no equipment though, and certainly no money to pay for medical care and…”

“It’s alright, Frank, I’ll check on her and… do my best,” Hawkeye gave Frank a reassuring smile, and was rewarded with a weak attempt of a soft, grateful smile offered by Frank Burns.

Hawkeye knew they had never understood each other better than in this very moment, and his heart was aware of it, swelling with growing fondness for the man. There was something positively enthralling about Frank, the rotten bastard and utterly dangerous man to anything humane, turning into reformed, caring individual.

They decided to head to Hawkeye’s new patient right away, Frank walking alongside Hawkeye, obviously nervous, but keeping his emotions to himself.

“What’s your diagnosis?” Hawkeye asked as they went.

“Is it the second or third time you’re asking for my opinion?” Frank sounded self-deprecatory, but then replied matter-of-factly: “She’d developed diabetes long time ago and somehow managed to have enough insulin. I’ve never asked. Then she hurt her hip when she went to her friend’s place and fell down, but it seemed she was recovering fine until she… eh…”

“What?” Hawkeye encouraged him, but Frank just grimaced uncomfortably.

“Let’s say she rediscovered her faith and felt urge to confess to her sins in church, attending messes often, and… she caught a bad cold. Without my equipment, I was able to help her only a bit, but now… I’m afraid it’s pneumonia,” Frank explained, his voice slightly tainted with emotions, which could’ve meant he cared about the woman not only moderately, but deeply.

“How old is she?”

“Sixty-five.”

Hawkeye nodded silently, acknowledging that despite being a great surgeon and a very capable practitioner, without roentgen, without hospital equipment, there was little he could do. He felt sorry for Frank, and once he saw the lady, he felt sorry for her as well. She was tall and he supposed she’d still look rather good for her age, however, as she was laying in the bed, her forehead sweaty…

“Don’t think I’ve left her here on her own… There are other people she’s helped in the past years and who care about her, and because I need to be at the soup kitchen to get at least some food…” Frank started babbling when Hawkeye pulled out the stethoscope.

“Hush, Frank, if it’s true what you’ve said, you wouldn’t have helped you even if you were sitting next to her day by day,” Hawkeye whispered when listening to the deeply sleeping woman’s heart, her breathing was laboured. “What’s her name anyway? I haven’t noticed at the door…”

“Fanny Jellinek.”

“Eastern Europe?”

“Yes, she… she and her husband managed to escape the Nazis from the Czechoslovakia,” Frank elaborated, while Hawkeye continue his work, listening to what Frank knew about the lady and her sad, sad fate. “He died shortly after they settled here. Fanny was fortunate enough to get a decent job at school, but… it’s been some years since she’s at home.”

“She survived the First World War, she survived Nazis… but I’m afraid, Frank, that she won’t survive the living conditions of the promised land,” lowered Hawkeye his voice as he noticed that Mrs Jellinek was waking up. “Do you want me to tell her, Frank?”

Frank weighed the option. He really did and Hawkeye saw how hard he was thinking, but in the end, he shook his head.

“How long, Pierce? A week…?” he asked in a small voice, his eyes never leaving Mrs Jellinek’s tired face.

“Maximum, but… I’d say three days. I’m sorry,” he packed the bag, and felt terribly. He wanted to help Frank and he knew he did in a way, but seeing him, looking at the lady with watery eyes, it hurt. It was his job, of course, but he had never made telling people their loving ones were dying a routine.

“Wait for me outside, please,” Frank said.

“Sure,” Hawkeye immediately complied, left the cramped room, and relived, he inhaled the fresh air in the yard.

_So here was Frank’s den…_

A half-shambled shed with a strong looking roof, inside some blankets, a wardrobe, stove, some cans with food, bottles, and several piles of books and magazines. The bed was hidden under the blankets, Hawkeye supposed, and another wave of sympathy struck him, aiming right at his heart that keened to save Frank from this way of living.

Whether he thought he deserved it or not, Hawkeye knew he was capable of helping Frank, however, he had no idea how to pull it off without enraging him, without being patronizing. He fastened the scarf around his neck, quite happy to wear it as it was a nice and sunny day, but the wind was chilly.

Linda was lucky to have her wedding outside on a warmer day, he mused, wondering how the weather could’ve changed so drastically in a span of a few days. Unlike his attitude towards Linda and her husband, he snorted, and turned around as he heard a sound of door being opened.

“I thought it was pneumonia, but… it’s… it’s somehow good to be sure,” Frank said once Hawkeye approached him, Frank remained standing on the short stairs leading to Mrs Jellinek’s room. “Thanks again, Pierce. It means a lot.” 

“Will you stay here?”

Frank nodded, stepping a bit as he left his coat inside and now was facing the wind just in his sweater.

“And… when will you go then? Do you think you can stay here?” Hawkeye nudged his head in the shed’s direction only to see Frank frowning, thinking.

Diving his hands into pockets of his pants, he shrugged.

“I don’t know, Pierce,” he looked up. “But I don’t want to think about it now. I… I need to stay with her now. That’s the least I can do for her.”

The silence among them was filled with understanding, while Hawkeye was pondering what else there was to say. And as he was looking at Frank, at his sunken face, remembering his slender body…

“What will you eat if you stay here?” he inquired, more or less already having a plan concocted in his mind.

“I’ll manage without anything for a few days. I’ve been through worse,” he dismissed Hawkeye’s question, staring somewhere into distance, shivering.

“Don’t even think about that,” said Hawkeye gravely, and when Frank met his eyes, some intense exchange of emotions happened. “Don’t even think about it because I’m here for three more days. I’ll work in soup kitchen instead of you and bring you the meals you would get if you were there as you planned. You don’t live far away, so… it won’t be a problem.”

Hawkeye was able to vividly picture Frank’s struggle with his own pride, and he knew his suggestion wasn’t put most considerately, so as he wished to soften it, he walked closer to Frank, saying quietly:

“You’re doing something good, something honourable here, so why suffer because of it when it’s not necessary, Frank.”

Blinking, Frank clenched his jaw for a while, averted his gaze elsewhere, and then nodded.

“Alright, Pierce, you seem to have a talent for persuading me,” he huffed, however, the annoyed grimace swiftly transform into a little smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Hawkeye reciprocated the thin smile, “Go back inside. You must be freezing.”

“So… See you later, I guess,” hesitated Frank a bit, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes, see you later,” Hawkeye confirmed, watched Frank’s back until his former bunkmate disappeared behind the door, and then he headed for the soup kitchen.

He felt rather good about himself, figuring out a scenario that was convenient for Frank, for his very ill friend, and for Hawkeye himself as well. After all, helping Frank posed a great excuse for refusing having lunch with Linda if she wanted, however, Hawkeye realized his idea wasn’t exactly flawless.

He spent the rest of the day in the soup kitchen, and during the next afternoon, he was working with his back sore as hell, sending painful bolts into his whole body.

He was used to it from Korea, but back then, it was easier to blot out the pain when lives of wounded were at stake. This time he was trying to think of Frank and that suffering through this was noble because he was helping not only Frank, but also the hungry folk queuing outside, still he wasn’t in the right mood to talk with Frank when delivering him his diner. He just handed it over and headed back to hotel, musing over Frank’s strong will. The job in the soup kitchen wasn’t hard, but monotonous and totally killing his back, so he wasn’t able to picture just huddling under covers in the yard and trying to sleep.

Acknowledging he was quite lucky to have a comfy bed and the possibility to take a shower, he stepped into his room, set his own diner aside, and once he hanged up his coat, the phone started ringing. As soon as he was informed his father was calling him, Hawkeye got instantly nervous. He was speaking to his dad in the morning, so it must’ve been serious if he’d be calling again the same day.

Before he heard his dad’s voice, he was already thinking whether there was something wrong with his dad, or Lou, or…

“Calm down, Ben, I’m at home and far from undergoing another surgery without your consent. I’m alright," Daniel Pierce said slowly right after Hawkeye voiced his worries into the phone.

Hawkeye sighed in relief, sweat already going cold on his forehead and nape. Slumping onto nearby chair, he swallowed.

“Thanks, dad,” he expressed the everlasting gratitude that his father understood how stressed out he was back in Korea, knowing his father was at hospital for mere seconds. “What about Lou? And Sir Meowcelot?”

“They’re both okay. Lou’s sleeping on the couch and Sir Meowcelot meows a lot,” said Daniel Pierce cheerfully, but Hawkeye heard a hint of worries in his voice.

“But something’s bad happened,” he encouraged his father to tell him, putting one of his legs on the chair, hugging his knee while waiting for the bomb to drop.

“It has, but nothing devastating, Ben. Do you remember us talking about Camille going roller-skating?” asked Daniel Pierce, and once his son hummed affirmation, he elaborated: “Well, she went again today and she’s been having some fun until she encountred a head-on collision with another skater. Besides mild concussion, she’s broken her leg and bruised both hands.”

“Sports, right?” Hawkeye huffed in irony. “How is she?”

“Roller-skating isn’t the same as going for a walk and stretching a bit, Benjamin,” said the older Pierce mockingly. “She’s feeling well as far as I know. I called her an hour ago and she felt alright, but is going to be out of office for some time. I’ll go and check on her tomorrow, it’s clear we’ll need a replacement though.”

“Yeah, it seems like that…” Hawkeye nodded to himself, taking in the information. “Will you manage tomorrow?”

“I will. Fortunately, there are only two appointments in the morning and three in the afternoon, and then there’s weekend coming…”

“Okay. But if you needed me-“

“I’d be okay, Ben,” Daniel Pierce assured his son good-naturedly, “just enjoy the rest of your holiday and call Camille tomorrow. She’ll be happy to hear from you.”

“I sure will. She’s in the Medical Center?”

“Of course,” said Daniel Pierce, and as they bade each other goodbye, Hawkeye hanged up, stood up, and groaned in pain.

When wobbling towards his bed, he promised himself to stretch a bit in the morning. He was avoiding it for years, but if he wanted to survive the next two days hunched over sinks in the soup kitchen, some exercise seemed inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes if you're interested... I let Hawkeye refer to Czechoslovakia as Eastern Europe because back them, my country (the Czech Republic) really belonged there as it was under the supervision of the Soviet Union. Today, we like to perceive ourselves as a part of Central Europe and we are definitely more West oriented than East oriented. 
> 
> And yes, Czechoslovakia is no more as well. It's two separate countries these day, the Czech Republic (Czechia) and Slovak Republic (Slovakia).


	7. Chapter 7

“It’s been a pleasure to have you here,” said Chase when Hawkeye was about to leave the soup kitchen for the last time. It was the evening before the day Hawkeye’s return was scheduled, and he was also holding the last diner her worked for in here. “I’m glad you’re helping Frank… even though it seemed he wasn’t thrilled to see you at first.”

“Our past in Korea was complicated,” Hawkeye offered him a thin smile. “It was fine to meet you, Chase. And your wife as well.”

“You’re always welcome, Ben,” Chase assured him and walked Hawkeye out of the building, “Say hi to Frank for me.”

“I will. Goodbye,” Hawkeye squeezed Chase’s hand, gave him another friendly smile, and then started for Frank’s current dwelling. There was something weird in the air, but he assigned to the fact he was leaving the next day, abandoning Frank, which he desperately tried not see necessarily as a bad thing. It was just the way it was, but still he felt like he should do something more for him.

His back hurt like hell and his gait was slightly awkward, however, it didn’t stop him from reproaching himself for not helping Frank sufficiently. He was aware such thoughts were vain, so he opted for focusing on not spilling the soup he was holding and walking in the right direction. It was almost impossible to get lost here, but at least his mind didn’t wander to unwanted spaces.

As he was nearing the house, Hawkeye spotted Frank sitting on the stairs, staring in distance. At first, Hawkeye thought he might’ve gone outside to breathe in some fresh air or was simply waiting for his diner, but the closer he was getting to Frank, the more intensely he began experiencing sorrow emanating from the place and Frank himself.

Frank didn’t look up when Hawkeye approached him. He didn’t say a word as he seemed to frozen to the spot. Hawkeye recognized his wrinkles being even deeper, his eyes haunted and lost.

Suspecting the worst, Hawkeye quietly sat next to Frank, gently pressing their shoulders together. Despite the lump forming in his throat, he spoke up:

“She’s gone?”

It took several seconds before Frank nodded. Hands in his lap, ruffled hair, bags under his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Frank.”

_Sorry for everything I’ve done to you, for the pain you’ve suffered through, sorry for trying to be a better person and being rewarded by ending up homeless, rewarded by loneliness and death. Sorry for not being able help you the way I should._

Both of them occupied with their own thoughts, they sat in silence until the cold wind wafted around Hawkeye’s head, reminding him where they were and that Frank was once again ignorant to the temperature.

“Do you want me to…?” he was meaning to ask whether there was basically anything he could do, but Frank shook his head.

“They’ve taken her away.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That she had nobody but a few homeless people she helped in the past,” Frank answered quietly, making it quite clear that a proper funeral was out of question, and Hawkeye doubted Frank would’ve attended it. He probably said his goodbye when sitting by her bed, holding her hand...

“Let’s get you somewhere warm,” Hawkeye suggested and stood up, but as Frank didn’t seem to listen, Hawkeye ventured to his shed, took the new coat Frank bought, grabbed a nearby hat, and returned to Frank. “Get up.”

This time, Frank’s eyes shifted to Hawkeye, and after a few seconds, he rose to his feet wobbly. Hawkeye put the cooling soup aside, helped Frank to get dressed, and then urged him to follow him to the hotel. His former bunkmate didn’t object at all, allowing Hawkeye to lead him to his room, telling him to sit on the couch. He even managed to persuade the receptionist to warm up the soup, which he then placed in front of Frank, not pressing him to eat, but just in case…

At least, there was something mildly positive about the situation, thought Hawkeye when putting away his coat and sitting next to Frank only in his sweater. The transition from a cold environment to a heated one didn’t brought about a cough attack to Frank this time, which suggested it wasn’t of a physical cause, but it was, indeed, rooted in his mental state. And currently, Frank’s mind was preoccupied with other thoughts than those of past traumas.

“Wanna drink, Frank?” he decided for the only way he could make Frank feel better.

“Yeah…” Frank sighed, and it occurred that only when answering, he noticed there was his diner on the table, and to Hawkeye’s mild surprise, he shuffled closer to it and started eating. Absentmindedly of course as there were pauses between mouthfuls he took, but as soon as Hawkeye poured him a glass of the scotch he brought with himself, Frank was almost done with the soup.

“She was… she was an outstanding lady. Determined, kind, optimistic. I doubt it was necessary for her to turn to God in her last years, because in my eyes, she was a saint,” said Frank, his voice dripping with honest emotions, when he grabbed the glass, staring into the gold liquid. “She was a true inspiration, Pierce. And I used to be so dumb to think that McArthur or Truman were the ones to look up to. But no… the only heroes are among ordinary people and I consider myself lucky to meet her.”

Stunned, baffled, and touched by Frank’s words, Hawkeye stared at Frank, his chest constricted, swelling with pride, and eyes gleaming with emotion. If he’d been reluctant to believe in an absolute change of Frank Burns, he’d have believed now.

“To Fanny Jellinek. God bless your beautiful soul,” Frank raised the glass, prepared to drink on his own, but stopped when Hawkeye spoke up as well:

“And to heroes hidden among common folk.”

Raising his glass to meet Frank’s, their eyes met, too, and as Frank saw understanding in his face, acknowledging the geniality of his words, he nodded, clinked Hawkeye’s glass, and Hawkeye was sure at that very moment that Frank was glad for his company. It might haven’t been in the kitchen soup, in the bistro, and not even at Fanny’s home, but in the hotel room, they discovered harmony.

“I… I would have never thought to be asking you this, Pierce, but please, talk. About anything. I need to… sort my emotions and… I can’t do it in silence when you’re here,” Frank made himself a bit more comfortable on the couch, leaning against the cushions as he was looking expectantly at Hawkeye.

“I can leave if you…” he suggested, really willing to leave Frank alone for an hour or so, but Frank waved his hand in dismissal.

“It’s not necessary, Pierce, just talk to me about anything. In Korea it was insufferable to hear your voice, but now it feels like… like an old record you know well and instead of annoying you, it makes you feel… as if everything is back to normal,” he said and to Hawkeye’s further wonder, a corner of his Frank’s mouth twitched in a subtle notion of a genuine smile.

Incredulous, Hawkeye couldn’t believe what Frank said, but the past few days were just the epitome of coincidence and things hard to believe. Therefore, Hawkeye ignored his mind’s interest in said stuff, drank a bit of scotch, and began narrating some of the events he lived through not in a particular order. Speaking in a level voice, he tried to pick stories that weren’t particularly funny or sad in spite of the fact he wasn’t sure whether Frank was paying any attention to him. There was a hint he did like when Hawkeye broached a topic regarding Margaret and how irritated he became over her bluntness and cruelty which she treated Frank with once she met Pennobscott, Frank snorted and folded his arms on his chest, while continued his staring at the opposite wall.

However, since that moment, Frank’s expression mirrored more and more sorrow, his eyes gloomy, and none of Hawkeye’s stories elicited any reaction from him.

“It’s… it’s enough, Pierce, thanks,” Frank said after about an hour and the hollow tone of his voice somehow reached Hawkeye, his guts getting squeezed by a cold hand.

Before he indulged himself in pitying Frank once more, the phone started to ring. Hawkeye briefly glanced at Frank who seemed undeterred. He then stood up, walking to the phone, and s he picked up the receiver, he heard Frank hiss:

“I need to get away from this place.”

Frustration echoing in the words and engraved in Frank’s expression, supported by despair and sorrow, Frank gritted something else through his teeth, while Hawkeye kept silently holding the receiver, grasping that Frank didn’t want to leave because he had nowhere to live and nothing much to eat, but because he had lost a beloved person. He didn’t want to stay here, constantly being reminded of her.

He wished for a new start despite being convinced he deserved this way of life.

In meantime, a lady was talking to him over the phone, and he took her in account only when he asked him for what felt like the third time if he was Benjamin Franklin Pierce as his dad was calling him.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, that’s me,” he blurted out, easing back to reality from the depths of his mind and soul, waiting now what his father had to tell him. This time, he wasn’t nervous because they had agreed on discussing again the temporal replacement of the injured nurse.

“It’s hard to find somebody reliable these times… The young people have moved to cities, and from my generation, there’s only Judith Dufresne, but her behaviour towards patients…” Daniel Pierce sighed. “You know her.”

“Yeah, she’s terribly judgemental,” Hawkeye agreed, holding quite a grudge against her for being such a gossiper, moreover a conservative and narrow-minded one. “What about men? No luck either?”

“Unfortunately, no, Ben, our town is just too small to keep the graduates here,” Daniel Pierce answered. “Maybe we should try working without her. I managed the office on Friday by myself, so when we’re both in there…”

“I don’t like seeing you work so hard already,” Hawkeye muttered, furiously thinking about the possible solution, however, his father was right about Crabbaple Cove and he couldn’t see anybody reasonable to go work in here unless…

His gaze stopped at Frank, sitting on the couch with an unreadable expression.

Hawkeye howled into the phone, closing his eyes and turning his face to the ceiling. Everything in him was begging him to let the idea go, to drop trying to help Frank in any possible way, and to think how much he was going to regret it, but the pieces of puzzle fitted together too well. Hawkeye wasn’t able to resist and once the wild idea popped out of his head, he knew he would chase it like a hungry dog.

“I might have somebody who could handle the work, dad,” he said slowly, halting his theatrics and looking back at Frank whom was glaring at him. “Right here, right now. It’s not a sure thing, but… I think I’m able to get enough money from the bank to pay for another ticket and we’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll sort out the accommodation later, so… prepare the couch please.”

“Are you sure, Ben? You want to bring here somebody you’ve just met?” sounded Daniel Pierce surprised, but not disapproving because he knew his son too well.

“We’ve known each other for some time. I have no idea whether it’ll work, but I want to try. I feel like I owe it,” he said and it seemed to him like he had just signed his verdict.

“Alright, then, I’ll see how the things work out,” the older Pierce trusted his son enough to let it happen, he only wanted to know: “Do I happen to know her? Or him? What’s their name?”

Hawkeye gulped as an unexplainable urge to say something dumb and stupid and make a joke of it, he succumbed with a vision of making it up to Frank, and revealed: “Marion.”

Once Hawkeye hanged up the phone, he sighed tiredly and palmed his face.

“What have I done?”

“Interesting question,” Frank remarked sceptically. “What the hell does this mean, Pierce?”

“Frank…” Hawkeye said, throwing himself on the closest surface he felt like sitting on, this time is was a table, “Our nurse in Crabbapple Cove is going to be out of office for some time. Do you really mean to leave Indiana and… maybe start somewhere else anew?”

Hawkeye quickly braced himself from Frank’s anger for putting him in such a position, but he also understood the absolute disbelief written all over his face. And a tiny bit of anger for being called Marion.

“Are you kidding?”

“No, Frank, I’m not,” Hawkeye said gravely, maintaining their eye contact carefully. “I think you don’t deserve this way of life despite the mistakes you’ve made. I see you’re a reformed individual and I want you to feel rewarded for your attempt. At first, you can stay at our house, and once you figure out whether you want to work with me, you’ll… move.”

“But… but what about money? You can’t pay for me…” Frank protested meekly, yet he must’ve known Hawkeye would take care of him completely.

“You can pay me back later. When you’re back on your feet,” Hawkeye assured him. “I… I feel like I owe you this. And you can’t lose anything, I guess,” he added a thin smile, followed by Frank’s snort.

“My mind,” Frank smirked. “Two Pierces? I’m not sure I’ll handle you.”

“Your mind will shatter into ‘pieRces’,” Hawkeye smiled, eliciting a pained groaned from Frank who literally plunged into cushions of the couch, looking all lost, but in a quite optimistic way.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll give it a shot, Pierce,” proclaimed Frank after a while, narrowing his back again, while giving Hawkeye a warning look. “But to make it clear. Since now, I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing. Let’s keep it this way and…”

“We sort other things out later?” suggested Hawkeye, feeling a strange vibration of joy resonating within his chest upon learning he was about to make Frank’s life better in terms of accommodation, and not only by paying for his food for a few days. This was a real commitment that Hawkeye had always been afraid of taking, but he wasn’t scared this time. He didn’t feel like running away when looking at Frank.

When looking at Frank whose cheeks gained a healthier colour, whose eyes started to shine with energy, and whose tentative, grateful smile urged Hawkeye to smile back again.


	8. Chapter 8

In spite of Hawkeye having presumed Frank would be outraged by the idea of working as a nurse, his former bunkmate didn’t say a word. In the next morning, Frank packed his things and stayed an hour or so at the soup kitchen to say goodbye, while Hawkeye went to airport and fetched another ticket to Portland. Frank didn’t show almost any sentiment about leaving the state of Indiana and venturing up north, but he displayed genuine interest in Maine’s landscape when landing. The whole flight was peaceful as well as the atmosphere between Hawkeye and Frank whom talked sporadically, yet amicably.

At the airport, Daniel Pierce was waiting for them to take them to Crabapple Cove, and once Hawkeye properly greeted him, he turned to Frank who was stepping nervously aside.

“That’s our new nurse, dad. I believe you recall my letters about Major Frank Burns,” he grinned, revelling in his dad’s surprise.

“Of course, I do. He was an idiot,” Daniel Pierce stared intensely at the unexpected visitor. “I hope you have a good reason for bringing him along, Ben,” he added, one corner of his lips twitching in a hint of an amused smile.

“I figured that failing as a surgeon doesn’t render you a bad nurse,” Hawkeye shrugged, holding Frank by his shoulder to show him support despite his words. “We need help and Frank needs help and some other things we won’t have trouble to provide him with.”

“Like new clothes? A haircut? And some food?” listed the old Pierce what he found amiss about Frank, but before the bespoken man could’ve protested against the way he was treated, Daniel Pierce offered Frank a hand, smiling at him friendly. “So welcome, Frank. If my son thinks you should be helped, then you will certainly be.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Frank and hesitatively squeezed Daniel’s hand, unsure whether he should act on the anger coiling in his blood, or whether to let it go.

“And call me Daniel,” suggested the older man something quite ordinary for him, but Frank seemed concerned about the idea.

He looked at Hawkeye in question, and because Hawkeye could’ve guessed what was bothering him, he nodded and gripped his shoulder firmly in encouragement.

“It will be alright, Frank,” he gave him a warm smile, and together, they then headed for the car. During the journey, Hawkeye shortly retold his dad how the wedding went south, but fortunately, he encountered his former bunkmate whom appeared to be the only of them capable of talking to him about the war.

“You can get the couch, or… I’ve been thinking about the attic,” Daniel revealed his idea. “You can choose whichever suits you better, but the attic naturally provides more privacy.”

“I don’t really mind, Daniel, I don’t want to be a bother so just tell me where I-“

“Nonsense, Frank,” the older Pierce interrupted him firmly, but his tone was warm. “You won’t be a bother at all. The house is big enough for the five of us.”

Before Frank could’ve thought about Daniel’s kind words further, he inquired bemusedly:

“Five?” It caught Frank off guard as he knew that Pierce had mentioned only his father regarding his family.

“We’ve got two cats,” Hawkeye turned from his seat to Frank, grinning at him goofily. “From studying your records in Korea, I know you’re not allergic, so I’ve kept it a surprise for you.”

“Okay,” Frank said indifferently, really unsure how he should react to information as he didn’t care much for cats. Of course, he had given some food to the stray cats, but who wouldn’t have? All of them were homeless like Frank, however, he quite acknowledged that the cats weren’t responsible for their downfall, so he didn’t even ponder not helping them. “I would’ve guessed you’re more of a dog person,” he remarked, trying to preserve the conversation, which he preferred to spending the whole ride in silence. Although, silence…? With two Pierces in a car? Impossible.

“Actually, I like both, but our land has no fence,” he shrugged, forcing a low chuckle from Frank.

“So instead of building up a fence and getting a dog, you’ve taken cats,” he shook his head in amused disbelieve, while Hawkeye offered him another big smile. It was nice to see Frank relaxing and once again allowing his changed nature to shine.

“I’m a surgeon! I cannot risk hurting my hands,” Hawkeye added before turning back to his seat, feeling a comfortable lightness settling inside his chest. He might’ve been worried about his dad’s and Frank’s first encounter considering what he had written about Frank in his letters from Korea, but his dad was simply the best, accepting Frank just because his son invited him to their house.

And to the house they then went. At first, Frank noticed the quite fine couch, but as it was standing literally in the middle on the main room, he had to agree that the attic seemed to be a better option. Hawkeye briefly showed Frank what was outside, mentioning they had a porch with a view at a pond, and as soon as they returned inside, Frank not only smelled the scent of coffee, but also heard some needy meowing.

“Oh, Sir Meowcelot, how are you?” Without a hint of hesitation, Hawkeye sat on the floor to pet the first cat that came to greet them. “Frank, this is Sir Meowcelot who meows a lot.”

“Of course, he is,” Frank rolled his eyes, but got onto his knee to offer his hand to the rather big, fluffy cat that sniffed and brushed his palm, making Frank smile at the quick display of trust. “He seems friendly.”

“He’s terribly cuddly and clingy,” Hawkeye commented on the cat’s behaviour before he sniffed the air as well, urging Frank to got up: “Coffee’s finished. Let’s grab some and then I’ll show you the attic. I’m curious myself what dad’s done with it.”

Hawkeye really relished being home again. The smell of coffee, creaking floor, webs in corners, and cat’s meowing. They spent some time talking over the coffee, however, once Hawkeye’s stomach rumbled, Daniel Pierce decided to warm up some lasagne, so they could eat in a couple of minutes. Hawkeye used the time to pick Frank’s luggage and lead him upstairs, then asked him to climb up the ladder, and finally handed him the bag. In a few seconds, the both them were in the attic and Hawkeye couldn’t feign his enthusiasm.

“I haven’t been here for years, but damn that looks good,” he said when pacing the spacious room. “The roof’s still high and windows are big, so… Do you think your claustrophobia will be a problem?”

Frank was ogling the room silently, and then heavily sat on the prepared bed.

“Is something wrong?” Hawkeye was right away at Frank’s side when he realized how pale the man grew. After a while Frank smiled though, shaking his head, staring now at the floor.

“Nothing’s wrong… it’s just… I don’t know how to thank you, Pierce, for giving a proper place to live,” he confessed quietly, which utterly broke Hawkeye’s heart. Sitting next to him, he grabbed his shoulder.

“You showing gratitude is the best reward to me, Frank,” Hawkeye said softly, maybe too softly he realized, yet wasn’t able to take it back when Frank met his eyes, looking all shy and touched, somehow mirroring everything Hawkeye was feeling at the same time. “And that’s not all, big boy! There’s an operational shower on the first floor, the fridge is totally at your disposal, and I’m sure you’ve noticed our library downstairs!”

“Sure I did,” Frank nodded, smiling at Hawkeye whom knew that as soon as he was comfortable enough, Frank was going to be able to entertain himself enough with reading, which was awesome given that there weren’t many activities in Crabapple Cove he could indulge in. Besides fishing and, apparently, roller skating.

Plunging into a moment of silence, the both of them heard a clandestine meow coming from the entry point to the attic.

“Lou!”

Hawkeye tilted his head, waiting whether the black cat would decide to approach them or not. His yellow eyes were observing both Hawkeye and Frank, the tip of his tail wagging slowly, but in the end Lou opted for paying more attention to the duo of humans, allowing Hawkeye to pet him. He then looked up rather expectantly at Frank whom gave him a pet as well after Lou sniffed him, and to Hawkeye’s wonder, the cat started rubbing on Frank’s leg.

“He must like you,” he grinned, looking down at Lou, and then at Frank, having so open, so vulnerable expression Hawkeye had to avert his gaze. He couldn’t understand why Frank’s change had been affecting him so much, yet his body seemed to knew better as a chill went through Hawkeye’s stomach, tender smile creeping upon his lips. “He’s very shy, but I think you’ll get along fine.”

Watching them quietly, Hawkeye remained silent for a while before he repeated the question about Frank’s claustrophobia.

“I feel alright now,” he shrugged, ogling the roof a bit suspiciously. “I’ll move the bed to the centre of the room, though. You know, to be sure.”

Hawkeye understood, but it was already time for the meal as his stomach didn’t refrain from reminding him, and therefore, they left the attic and Hawkeye explained Frank where the bathroom, his, and dad’s room were located. For the afternoon then, Frank agreed on taking a nap, unpacking, walking around the house, have more rest, and about six o’clock, Hawkeye called him down for diner.

“What’s up with his cough?” Daniel asked when Hawkeye sat at the table, and they were waiting for Frank to descend.

“Psychosomatic,” said Hawkeye, sort of expecting the question to come up. “He’s been through some rough times…”

Daniel Pierce nodded, taking the information it wasn’t contagious into account.

“And have you spoken with him about his wage?”

Hawkeye shrugged.

“I guess he’s not going to ask for any,” he shook his head, his hair getting into his eyes. “I’ve gotta go to the barber’s,” he grimaced irritably.

“Good idea, take Frank with you tomorrow,” Daniel suggested.

“Where to?” Frank appeared in the doorway, looking a bit awkward at first, but as he noticed the chair he was sitting on during lunch was vacant, he seated himself and looked expectantly at Hawkeye, and then at his dad.

“In the morning, we’ll take care of the urgent cases, but I’ve called Monday afternoon off. I thought I’d try looking for a nurse again…” Daniel explained his train of thoughts. “So we’ve got ourselves a free afternoon and because Ben needs to visit Portland anyway, you should go together. Get you some clothes appropriate for the weather.”

“What do you say?” Hawkeye turned to Frank, friendliness shining in his blue eyes. “And don’t start any crap that you don’t need any charity. Take it as a welcome gift,” he smiled encouragingly.

“Okay,” Frank conceded before he even thought of an argument against, still he was adamant about not being a nuisance. “I guess I can’t pay for it anyway.”

“Now,” inserted Daniel Pierce, and both of the other men gave him surprised looks. “Don’t stare at me like that. I’m going to pay him something, otherwise I’d have felt like a crook. I won’t let you work just for food and a roof above your head.”

“I’ll pay you back at least something then…” Frank seemed almost happy with the situation, and Hawkeye couldn’t stop grinning at his dad whom had concocted just a perfect plan.

“That’s fine with me,” said Daniel Pierce, got up from the table, and presented his “boarders” with a giant plate of meatloaf.

“Dad’s grown terribly fond of cooking while I was in Korea,” provided Hawkeye some background information. “Anytime I’m away, he’s cooking like crazy.”

“I had to pick up a hobby to occupy my mind,” Daniel shrugged and set the plate on the table. “Knitting just stopped doing the trick.”

Chuckling, Hawkeye of course sensed sensitivity of the topic, but to laugh at it was easier than dwell on it, moreover, in front of his father who had been worried sick about his only son. Had he ever had the urge to talk war with somebody, it’d be Frank whom was gazing hungrily at the meatloaf, which warmed Hawkeye’s heart.

“You can also borrow our car if you want to,” added Daniel before he dove his fork into the meal. “Just tell me or Ben where you’re going.”

Not saying anything, Frank only looked up to Daniel, nodding and mumbling a thanks, yet Hawkeye noticed how taken aback his former bunkmate was. It pained him even to think of the possibility that nobody had ever been so kind to Frank as Daniel Pierce was right now. Sadly, it felt true…

Frank remained quite passive during his first day in the office where he intently listened to what the two Pierces wanted him to do, and while the older one was checking on the urgent cases, Hawkeye was assisting him or giving some advice to Frank. Upon leaving the office at noon, neither of them was sure it was going to work, but Hawkeye saw interest sparkling in Frank’s eyes when learning new things, which was certainly a good sign. They got quick lunch at home before they agreed on sticking to the plan and going to Portland.

Getting fresh haircuts and some food, they continued discussing mostly the work flow in Crabapple Cove, mentioning it was basically routine that was spiced up by something unexpected from time to time. They finished their trip with buying some clothes for Frank, focusing on massive shoes suitable for the upcoming winter, but they simply grabbed everything that Frank might need.

As Hawkeye helped Frank to carry all the stuff to the attic, he noticed Frank’s eyes were glistening with tears, though he managed to find a fitting distraction in Lou, waiting up for them on the bed. Frank immediately went towards the cat, petting its head while facing Hawkeye with his back.

Hawkeye smiled and felt his eyes gentling. He dropped the bags and boxes on the floor, muttering quiet: “You’re welcome, Frank,” hoping, it would sum up everything he wanted to say, yet couldn’t find the proper words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already finished writing of the whole story, but... I sort of fear the rest may disappoint you. There'll be no big drama There won't be any arguments. Just.... coming to terms with their feelings for each other as it was the only thing I wanted for them in the end. I still hope you'll enjoy it though :)


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you busy, Frank? Can we talk?” asked Hawkeye with a slightly nervous smile as he found Frank refilling the cats’ bowls.

“Sure,” Frank sounded caught off guard, but he quickly agreed and suggested: “Can we take a walk? I’d have done some running, but due to the snow…” he shrugged as he turned to face Hawkeye, whom only nodded. “Okay, I’ll just fetch some warmer clothes... Give me five minutes.”

After saying that, Frank checked whether the cats were satisfied with their full bowls, and then retreated back to the attic where he had been living for a whole month. Hawkeye decided to wait for Frank outside as he was already dressed up properly for he had paid a visit to one of their patients. It was Sunday, yet he felt like the old woman would’ve appreciated his presence, which she did, and the whole experience filled Hawkeye with courage to actually discuss with Frank a topic he broached with his dad a few days ago.

Although he could’ve had some doubts about him and Frank working together again, especially in their office, the changes the war put them through were showing. They argued, of course, as Frank tended to be bossy even though he wasn’t in a position to be so, then he was petulant about being frown upon because he just failed at making the doctors stick to the schedule without exceptions, however, he gradually got used to the work flow of both Pierces.

Unless somebody’s life was literally at stake, they took their time with patients, and to Hawkeye’s mild surprise, Frank quite swiftly accepted they didn’t expect the folk to pay for their services. He had understood probably that it was a part of trying to be as good person as possible, and thus when following Daniel’s request to search for a substitute for a shortage medicine, Frank was able to find one that was efficient, and quite cheap at once.

Waiting for Frank on the porch, watching the lazy snowfall, Hawkeye smiled to himself how well they were capable of working as a team. They got used to each other, and moreover, they respected each other unlike in Korea. Hawkeye couldn’t refrain from being surprised at how much knowledge Frank gathered from the books he was reading, and even though he lacked some practise, he was definitely more capable a doctor that he was during the war. He was open to discussion, quick to learn, and as a nurse, he proved himself to be very handy.

“Shall we go?” Frank appeared in the door, wearing his jacket, woollen scarf, and a new toboggan hat Hawkeye had bought him because he had always quietly adored the one Charles had.

Diving his hands deeper into the pockets, Hawkeye nodded, and they started their tour around the pond. They walked in silence, just snow cracking under their steps, clouds of vapour coming from their mouths.

“Dad told meyou want to help more around the house,” Hawkeye commenced the conversation with a topic he wanted to know something about anyway.

“Yeah, I’d like to. In this weather, it’s difficult to at least try to get back into a shape, so I thought I can repay you the favour by taking care of the house,” Frank explained a bit too enthusiastically because the cough got better of him in the next half a minute, but then he cleared his throat and added: “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” Hawkeye offered Frank a tiny smile. “It sometimes worries me that my dad works so much, so your help is very welcome, especially concerning shovelling the snow away and chopping the wood.”

“And do you think it’s possible to buy some more eggs for me? I’m doing great, I really am, but to gain some muscles…”

“Don’t worry,” Hawkeye chuckled this time. “I’m glad you’re well enough to think of getting back into the shape,” he assured Frank, and after another minute of silence, Hawkeye asked Frank a question he thought he knew the answer beforehand, still he was rather nervous about the possible outcome.

“So… our nurse is able to return to the office next Monday, but I guess you would like to stay here, wouldn’t you?”

“She’s… she’s coming back already?” Colour vanishing from Frank’s face, he suddenly seemed as lost as he was on the streets of Indiana again, as if he suddenly realized that being homeless might be a real threat to him.

“Yes, she is, but I was talking with dad about you and I… Well, I think he’s going crazy and I love him for that, so… we’ve come up with an interesting solution,” Hawkeye gave a silent laugh when observing Frank from the corner of his eye, making sure his former bunkmate was listening to him.

“What are you talking about, Pierce? She’s coming back, I’m no longer any use for you,” Frank halted abruptly, looking sharply at Hawkeye whom kept giving him a small, hopefully warm smile to nonverbally assure him everything was going to be fine. “But… you really seem honest about keeping me here, so…” Frank narrowed his eyes, apparently unsure about what to make of the situation.

“Frank… My… my dad loves being a doctor and he has never pondered another option until now. He knows that you and me are able to take care of all the patients. Yes, you hear me well, he wants you to take up his position with Camilla returning to the office,” Hawkeye revealed, quite successfully ignoring the biting wind when he was witnessing Frank’s eyes going wide in surprise.

“That’s not possible, Pierce…” slipped out from his lips. “You must be kidding.”

“I’m not, Frank,” Hawkeye confirmed. “That’s why I was asking whether you’d like to stay here. You’ve been mostly working and reading here, so I’m not sure at all whether you like it, we haven’t talked that much, and I know you’re not a fan of Pierces, however-“

“You don’t mind working with me?” Frank interrupted him, staring intensely in Hawkeye’s eyes, searching for any traces of a lie.

Hawkeye shook his head, smiling slightly.

“It’s surprised me as well, but I don’t mind having you around. I’ll still be your superior, but as you know, I’m quite open to discussion and-“

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted him again, his eyes going soft and more peaceful now. “I know, but can I accept it after everything you’ve done for me?”

“Let’s think about it from my dad’s point of view,” Hawkeye literally grinned at bemused Frank. “He’s become very passionate about cooking. He loves it and is great at it, so I… a week ago, I once encouraged him to try something new if he wanted to. And he agreed to open some kind of a bistro with his friend Buzz. I have no idea if it’s going to work, but I haven’t seen him so enthusiastic about anything in years.”

Getting a bit overwhelmed by the love for his father, Hawkeye started into distance and acknowledged the reality only when a funny little thought crossed his mind.

“And to be honest, Frank, who would voluntarily decide to work in such a remote place as Crabapple Cove,” he shrugged, giving Frank a half-smile, hoping he was going to persuade him that accepting the offer was logical and… right. “By staying here you’ll do us a great favour.”

Still suspicious, Frank averted his gaze to the pond, but after a quiet moment he looked back at Hawkeye, nodding slowly.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

“Great,” Hawkeye beamed at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a rise, so you can treat yourself a bit,” he said, and couldn’t believe that Frank honestly simpered at his words.

He looked kind of cute, Hawkeye thought when they opted for continuing their walk before they’d froze up. It didn’t scare Hawkeye though as he learnt he was able to feel various strange emotions around Frank, though this one occurred for the very first time, making Hawkeye wonder whether the friendship he had with Frank wasn’t mutating, shaping into something else.

It would’ve made sense, Hawkeye admitted to himself because it wasn’t anybody else but Frank whom reappeared in his life when he needed the change, and since he’d been living and working with him, Hawkeye didn’t not lapse back into the state of being lost and having no purpose. However, as he looked at the person at his side, there was no emptiness resonating within his chest, no dull ache in his soul. There was something and it was thriving.

Once Frank realized Hawkeye was watching him, he gave him a confused, but pleased smile, which Hawkeye wasn’t capable of not reciprocating. His heart swelling at the simple gesture, Hawkeye sensed there was something going on with his feelings and he couldn’t convince himself to dislike it.


End file.
